Battlestar Columbia : Zero Hour
by Spitfire6
Summary: (BSG2003) The ill-fated and crippled Columbia attempts to keep one step ahead of pursuing Cylons. Classic characters Athena, Jolly, Cassiopeia and Lucifer are included. Please R
1. Default Chapter

Battlestar Galactica, created by Glen A. Larson

© Copyright Ronald D. Moore and Universal Studios

**ZERO HOUR**

Colonial Year 7342

Battlestar _Columbia_ in Caprica orbit

Commander James Vinn rubbed his snow white beard as he stood on the bridge. He didn't like the sudden rash of computer malfunctions that had seemed to escalate over the past few hours. What worried him more was that this seemingly random event was being paralleled aboard the _Rycon_ and _Atlantia_.

His ops officer had no explanation and had been seated in front of his console - without a break since it began.

Vinn turned to his raven haired, young XO, Colonel Athena Adama. William Adama's niece had not followed his path, instead coming up quickly through the ranks as a deck officer rather than a pilot. "Do we have any indication what is causing this?" His tone was accusatory and tired.

"No Sir." Athena wished she could convey more but there was a short supply of answers.

Vinn grimaced. "This is supposed to be a state of the art vessel, a technological wonder…Now I can understand why your uncle loved the lack of these toys on his ship."

"Sir, we have picked up two Cylon basestars on the navcom." The ops officer was stunned. It had been forty years since the Cylon War… "They have launched raiders!"

Athena went over to his station. The navcom wasn't picking up a patrol or a squadron but literally thousands of fighters on an intercept course. "By the Lords of Kobol…"

Vinn tapped the commlink. "Flight deck, this is the Commander, launch all vipers!" He then turned to his ops officer. "Lieutenant, bring the weapons online and prepare to fire on my command."

"Commander…Weapon systems are not responding. I can't activate any of the gun turrets."

"Missiles then." Athena attempted to bring these ready for launch but the missile launchers were not accepting the launch codes. "Commander, we're sitting ducks."

Vinn stabbed at the commlink. "Captain Seth, I need those vipers in action!"

Kevin 'Jolly' Seth was not the typical, robust looking pilot. He was slightly overweight and blamed it on exquisite Caprican cuisine that was simply irresistible. Jolly was the ship's CAG, having come aboard yehrens ago as a flight sergeant, moving up to be the top pilot.

"Jolly here Sir. We're in the tubes and ready to launch. I had a problem with my viper but the first squadron is already out there and I'll soon be joining them."

Vinn watched the sleek Mark VII vipers heading toward the wave of Cylon raiders. He knew that it had come down to those pilots being the_ Columbia's _only chance. He punched a console. So much power at his disposal but when he needed it, someone pulled the plug. He was dead in space, a perfect target.

He expected to see the dogfights begin but instead his vipers simply seemed to stop, as if having hit a barrier. Every one of those modern vipers were reduced to space debris in a matter of seconds, none of them got off a single shot and the raiders pressed on.

"Frack." Athena hissed under her breath.

"Sir!" the ops officer stood up. "The Cylons are using some sort of EMP. We launch the remainder of our vipers, we'll lose them all."

"EMP?" Was all Vinn could say before the first salvoes began to impact the battlestar. Monitors and consoles exploded around the CIC. Bulkheads crashed to the deck, exposing circuitry. Emergency red lighting came on soon after the bridge went dark.

The _Columbia_ seemed to be a lightning rod for more strikes, rocking violently as she was targeted.

"We've lost main power. Life support is on auxiliary power supply. Breaches on Decks 12-16. Damage Control teams responding." The ops officer continued to read off the litany of bad news until his monitor fizzled and died.

Athena gently removed the dead helmsman and sat herself at that console. "Helm is not responding."

Vinn tapped the commlink again. "Engine Room, I need power." It wasn't until he saw the comm panel's lights all off that he realized it was down like everything else. "You, go down to the Engine Room and tell them we need all available power right now." He ordered one of his deck officers who immediately left.

The acrid smell of burning circuits and flesh, the coughing and groans filled the CIC. On the view screen, barely functional, showed an equally burning _Rycon_ and beyond Caprica was being hit by numerous nuclear strikes. None of which he could prevent.

"Why didn't they finish us off." Said one of the junior officers.

"We're dead in space and they know it." Vinn answered. "They'll come back to us soon enough."

An engineer, his uniform covered in grime, made his way over the debris and gave Vinn a radio. "Major Ojbo thought it might be useful, sir."

Vinn smiled as he pressed the transmit button. "Major, I need our engines working."

There was static before the chief engineer replied. _"I'm doing my best, Commander. The whole primary system has crashed as well as some of the secondary ones. I've never seen anything like this before. Attempting to do some serious jury rigging but I can't say it will work."_

"I need enough power for a jump." Vinn hated the idea of retreat but what else could he do. He promised to return when he had a fully functional battlestar that could do something other than be an immobile target.

Again there was static._ "I'll do what I can. Best you can hope for is a short jump, anything more is simply impossible."_

The commander then looked at his ops officer. "Begin the count to jump."

"Destination?" The ops officer had to go to an operational console. He was nervous, knowing full well that they needed enough power to attempt a jump.

Vinn looked at the star chart display. "The Void. The Cylons won't be able to scan for us there."

"We have to consider abandoning ship." Athena knew it was not a desirable option but reality dictated that it be on the table. If the jump failed, they would be stuck on a dead ship, unable to do anything to help the Colonies.

Vinn nodded toward the screen as Caprica burned. "Where would you have us go, Colonel? Many of those raiders were heading for Virgon and Sagitaria if they keep to their course. I assume the outer colonies will suffer the same fate." He tugged on his tunic. "The Cylons aren't taking prisoners today."

Some medics had arrived, attempting to give first aid to the wounded, trying to stabilize them for transport to Sickbay, one of the more protected areas of the ship.

The Commander pushed some debris off of a console but it was inactive. Was there any sense on staying aboard? Was he jeopardizing the lives of his crew? He turned to Athena. "If the jump fails, we'll proceed with abandoning ship." He had no choice but to accept that if the jump failed, secondary systems might fail as well, meaning life support would fail.

Looking at the screen, made him angry and helpless.


	2. Lucifer

**Cylon Basestar 2490**

It stood on the command chamber of Basestar 2490 as the Edict of Extermination was carried out against humanity. There had been a margin for error, alternate possibilities calculated, contingencies made in the event the invasion did not go as planned.

Lucifer, an IL-Class Cylon, was definitely a superior model to the centurions. It was programmed with administrative abilities, whether it be diplomatic or aggressive. Unlike the centurions, its metallic form was covered with a red robe made from Ovion silk. Its transparent cranium was unusual, allowing the circuitry that made up its computer brain to be visible. There were literally thousands of them within the growing Cylon Empire, but unlike the centurions, they were distinctive, their programming unique to the specific droid in question. An almost human representation.

The IL-Class had remained supreme among the Cylon models until the evolution of the android, with biological components, mimicking human behavior and mannerisms perfectly. One such android, Number Six, with the manipulation of human Baltar, had given them victory. Lucifer was not jealous of these new android models and viewed them more as a logical strategic weapon that served a purpose.

Data streams were scrolling down several monitors at a speed no human could digest. Constantly updated, it was processed and evaluated immediately. All twelve of the human colonies were succumbing to their attack. The battlestars in the system were rendered powerless and were more a distraction than a threat.

Except one unique vessel, identified as the _Galactica_. There was no answer as to why that ship was not affected by the cyber attack, like the others.

"Concentrate ordinance on the _Galactica_." Lucifer ordered. The two basestars should easily dispatch the outgunned defender. It need not calculate the odds, grossly in its favor.

The Cylon analyzed the data as multiple missile launchers fired a massive bombardment. Could it delete the _Galactica_ from the list of targets?

The data stream revealed a concern, shown in binary code. It was already too late. The _Galactica_ achieved a jump as hundreds of missiles missed contact by mere seconds. Lucifer did not feel remorse for massacring billions of people, only that the core objective would not be met if even one ship was allowed to escape.

"Locate Battlestar _Galactica_." As the ship's computers calculated the location of the _Galactica's_ arrival point, Lucifer waited patiently.

The coordinates eventually were displayed, in the binary code as before. Lucifer only took a micron to react. "Send Basestar 2294 to these coordinates. Destroy the humans." Again, it was an order without malice or even vengeance. Humans had become no different from a computer virus that needed to be quarantined and deleted.

His command was carried out immediately. The basestar had a complement of over 400 raiders; a number its Colonial equivalent could not hope to emulate. Lucifer did not join the hunt for the _Galactica_, believing it had already sent suffient firepower. Other basestars could easily be dispatched in any even. Its concern was with these twelve planets: Arilon, Aquaria, Canceron, Caprica, Geminon, Leonon, Libron, Picon, Sagittarion, Scorpia, Tauron and Virgon.

Once orbital bombardments eradicated what little defense was left, centurion divisions would be sent to the surfaces of these worlds and continue the Edict of Extermination. It was estimated that the joint population was over 100 billion humans but Lucifer believed this was an inflated number.

A series of ones and zeroes began streaming down the holographic display, giving the Cylon information on the hunt for the _Galactica. _The battlestar was not at coordinates but 20 unarmed Colonial ships were detected. Only one, the _Olympic Carrier_, was saved from destruction. It was assumed the battlestar was heading for Ragnar Station in need of crucial ordinance and would be intercepted there.

There would still be wayward outposts of humanity that needed cleansing. It could take several yahren but ultimately come to its logical conclusion, a galaxy void of the wickedness of their former masters.

Lucifer looked over the scans, its silicon brain digesting a thousand GB of information in a micron. The Battlestar _Rycon_ was nearly torn in half with plasma fires engulfing much of its twisted hull. The _Acropolis_ was nothing but a debris field, her hull integrity having utterly failed. There was countless evidence of the Colonial Fleet's destruction. Some of the debris, identified as human remains, mattered little to it. The burning wreck that was the _Atlantia_, the flagship herself, was also visible. No life signs.

The scans continued, moving quickly over the succumb enemy, revealing nothing that Lucifer did not already surmised. That was until the _Columbia_. At first, Lucifer suspected an error though this battlestar, crippled as she was, still looked better than her peers. There were humans still existing within her breached and mangled hull.

"Destroy the Battlestar _Columbia_." Lucifer ordered.

"By your command." Came the response from one of its subordinates.


	3. Escape

**Battlestar Columbia**

Unlike Commander Vinn, who was remarkably calm considering the situation, Athena found herself looking at the chrono counting down for the FTL jump. Five centons. Normally she could easily breeze through that allotted time without realizing it. Now, it felt like an eternity.

She had to stop herself from using the hand-held radio to contact Chief Engineer Ojbo every other centon as if it would do anything else but annoy the man. While Vinn stood there patiently, the others in the CIC were anxious but attempted to hide it. No one wanted failure, which meant utter destruction and death.

Athena looked at the chrono once more, pulling at her collar as if it had gotten tighter. Four centons. The raven-haired Caprican went over to ops, looking at one of the working monitors displaying power output. 4,590,000 ergons. She smiled with a reassured hope. If the power held, they would be able to jump.

Three centons.

"Commander, a basestar is moving into firing position." It was Lieutenant Jahn Vega, the ops officer. His voice betrayed his anxiety. What the sensors could not tell him, because of continued glitches in the system, was how soon they would be within firing range and whether raiders would join in. He didn't have to look at the hull integrity index to know they would never survive a frontal attack.

Athena's blue eyes glanced toward her CO. 6,300 people, not counting the unknown number of fatalities thus far, had their lives in the old man's hands.

Vinn, hands clasped behind him, looked at the chrono. "Jettison the refuse. Give the Cylon warheads an alternative target but do so when they open fire." _I'm left with fighting them with garbage. May the Lords of Kobol protect us_. He looked up at the information display tower and grimaced as he remembered it was not working.

Two centons.

The two opposing warships were nearly within weapons range accept only the massive basestar was capable of offensive action. It appeared that the raiders themselves would not be involved. Cylon tactical subroutines targeted the _Columbia_ but with a controlled rate of fire, reasoning only a few warheads would be required to destroy her. Debris from the _Acropolis_, caught by Caprica's gravitational pull, tumbled between the ships. One piece missed the battlestar by only a few feet.

One centon.

The debris field was soon burning up in Caprica's atmosphere, allowing for an unobstructed target. Basestar 2490 did nanosecond recalibration then began firing five warheads targeting five weakened positions on the _Columbia_. Lucifer had logically assumed it was a waste of resources for a massive strike of hundreds of warheads on what was nothing more than a derelict.

Some of the Cylon missiles did strike the refuse and detonated short of its intended target. The shockwave was still felt on the crippled _Columbia_ as two missiles were still on course.

It was now a matter of physics and time.

The Dradis Console showed just how close it would be, a fraction of a micron.

Vinn looked at the chrono for the last time. 00:00. "Now Lieutenant!"

The _Columbia_ burrowed through the fabric of space, via an artificial wormhole and in a very short period, reemerged within the Void. A magnetic emptiness that very few would even attempt to transgress - those that would have traveled so far from home.

There was a great deal of relief on the deck of the CIC, having momentarily brushed aside possible destruction. Vinn knew it was temporary and grabbed the hand-held radio. "Major Ojbo, what's the status of our engines?"

"_I'll be honest, Commander, excuse my Arilon, but it's a fraking mess."_ Came the crackled voice of the chief engineer. _"It's not just Vega's precious computers that are freaking out my engines. I don't know what I can do without a space dock."_

Vinn and Athena exchanged looks. Certainly not the first time and the way things were going, not the last either.

Shortly after, the senior officers had assembled in the Situation Room. No one spoke as if the recent tragedy was still too hard for them to digest.

Vinn nodded to Major Sorrel Antos, chief medical officer, to begin. She was an attractive black woman in her early fifties. Her dark hair was laced with white strands and it was unsure whether it was from aging or stress. She had served with Vinn the longest but was not particularly close.

"We lost 750 people. 1,200 are wounded…30 of those in critical condition."

Again, the room went silent. Everyone was saddened by the losses but knew it could have been worse.

Major Enriq Ojbo, a stocky redheaded man sporting a trimmed beard like the commander, spoke next. "We're going to need a space dock." He said matter-of-factly.

"The Colonies are under attack. We don't have the luxury of a space dock." Stated Vinn.

"The damage is too extensive to repair on my own, Sir." Insisted the chief engineer. He knew the others wanted to hear differently; that repairs would take only a few centars so they could save the billions back home.

"What about the colonies? We can't just sit here and do nothing." Athena exclaimed. Even with the senior rank she possessed, she simply couldn't look upon the attacks as collateral damage.

"Indeed, what is being done, Commander?" All eyes turned to see Sire Felip Gellar enter the room. The white-haired man was Virgon's representative on the Quorum of Twelve, possibly the only survivor of President Adar's high council.

Gellar was aboard more as a publicity stunt as the _Columbia_ had been one of the original twelve battlestars and she was built by and represented Virgon. As a tribute to that historic legacy, Virgon's colonial flag was draped around a staff in the corner, opposite the federal flag of the Twelve Colonies.

Vinn, being a Virgon native, gave Gellar quite a bit of latitude but he was prepared to go only so far for the man. The time for politics was over.

"The _Columbia_ is in no shape to fight the Cylons." The Commander answered. He was being practical though the death screams of billions of people were clearly being heard and felt by him. He looked to his operations officer. "What went wrong, Lieutenant?"

Vega set his palms on the table. "I'm not sure exactly. If the malfunctions only happened to us... but it occurred across the ships we were in contact: The _Atlantia, Rycon, Solaria, Triton _and _Acropolis _that we know of. The only conclusion I have is that the ships were infected by a corrupted file or program, possibly delivered by the Command Navigation Program. Right now it is only thing that makes any sense."

No one liked that possibility, that the Fleet was compromised by a faulty link with headquarters. A computer error having destroyed their civilization.

"The Command Navigation Program is also used by the vipers." Added Jolly. "Blue Squadron was all but stopped in their tracks and destroyed…Shutdown like the battlestars. That bastard Gaius Baltar designed the damn thing."

"That's enough, Captain. Grant you, the CNP looks like the best suspect we have but let's not jump to conclusions."

"Shouldn't we contact Fleet Headquarters on Picon, Sir? Request orders and see what's happening?" Asked the newly named Chief of Security.

"Fleet Headquarters is gone and Admiral Nagala was lost with his flagship. We don't know how extensive our losses are and we'll have to be content with that at this moment. Any communications we attempt to make will only be used by the Cylons to track us."

This did not placate Sire Gellar. "I order you to contact President Adar immediately!"

Vinn, out of visible frustration, rubbed his eyes. It had been a long day; definitely the most tragic he had ever experienced. Everyone he knew back on Virgon and elsewhere were possibly dead. Command & Control was severely compromised but he didn't want to believe the _Columbia_ was the sole survivor.

"Sire Gellar…" The Commander paused so as not to lose control. "Please return to your quarters. Ensign Rigellian, escort the Councilor and see to it that he arrives."

Gellar was going to protest but agreed grudgingly to leave uttering, "This isn't over."

When Gellar was finally gone, Jolly muttered. "Politics."

"Our situation is grave. We need a repair facility but for obvious reasons, can't return home. Any suggestions?" Vinn asked his officers.

"There is a space dock here…" Ojbo passed over a starchart to Vinn.

"It could also be crawling with Cylons." Jolly added.

Vinn looked at the star chart. "I can't take the chance that the Cylons could be waiting for us. Not in our current state. We'll send a raptor ahead to check it out. Colonel Adama, I want you and Captain Seth on this."

"With all due respect, Sir, I should be here helping with repairs." Athena commented.

"I need you on this mission. It'll require a diplomatic touch." Vinn smiled.

"Commander, I like permission to return to Sickbay." Requested Sorrel, returning seriousness to the discussion.

Vinn nodded. "Of course Doctor." No one said anything as she stood up and left the room. Some of the wounded were known by those around the table.


	4. An Ally?

**Raptor 1**

Jolly was piloting as Athena sat in the ECO's rear seat. The jump was unremarkable though the CAG had to adjust some perimeters because of the Void's composition.

Ahead of them was the alien space station Gaelatu. It was a hive of activity with an assortment of vessels coming and going but none of these were Colonial.

Jolly turned back. "Well Colonel?"

Athena glanced at her Dradis console. "No Cylons."

"Yet." He added pessimistically.

"Contact them, Jolly but don't get to friendly." She warned, her eyes on the Dradis just in case raiders or a behemoth basestar should pop in.

The captain sighed and tapped the comm unit. "This is shuttle _Tango_ requesting permission to dock."

There was an eerie pause that Athena assumed was the dockmaster wondering why a Colonial raptor was going by a civilian tag.

"_This is Docking Control. Shuttle Tango, you are cleared to land in Hanger 321, Strip 2."_ Came the gruff reply.

Jolly again turned to Athena, who nodded. "Into the belly of the beast." He murmured.

The raptor gracefully approached the hanger as huge cargo ships lumbered by, their alien markings looking more like a child's scribbles than an actual language.

Athena looked out the forward window. "They're equipped to handle a ship the size of _Columbia_." She pointed to a docking clamp.

He nodded. "So how do you want to handle this?" Jolly asked while he guided the raptor onto strip 2 where a deck crewman motioned where he was to park.

"Carefully." She smirked then opened the hatch. The sound of work crews and shouts in dozens of languages assaulted their ears. "We'll take a look around."

Both were dressed in civilian clothes but here in the hanger they appeared to be the only humans. The station itself was made up of 63 levels offering its clientele numerous opportunities for cuisine, business dealings and entertainment. A female Tucanas singing trio seemed to be the biggest draw, signs indicating as such were everywhere.

Many of the aliens were staring at them as they passed. Their passage was blocked by a powerfully built felinoid, a Khressari, who towered over them by at least a foot.

Athena didn't know what to expect and was prepared to reach for her compact pistol in its shoulder holster, concealed by her jacket.

"You're drawing attention to yourselves." The Khressari finally said. "Unless you have a death wish, I suggest you leave the station now."

Jolly and Athena exchanged looks. "If we don't?" She asked him.

The Khressari glared at her. "You will most certainly die." His vertically slit eyes glanced at those nearby.

"Listen pal, we don't take kindly to threats." The _Columbia's_ CAG snapped back.

"We can not talk here. Come." The Khressari motioned to an more isolated area. "I am Shras." He whispered. "News of the attack on your worlds has traveled at hyperspace and I can say that those on Gaelatu are more interested in their own survival. They will gladly sell you out to those Cylons if it means life."

"Even if it means the Cylons becoming the most dominant power in the galaxy? Do you really think their aggression will stop with humanity?" Jolly couldn't believe the other species would just protect their own collective ass.

"Personally, no I don't but then my opinion matters little to them. You should head for Starlos."

Athena sighed. "We can't. Our ship suffered damage." She was unsure whether to divulge anything to Shras.

Shras thought for a moment. "My cousin has a small repair station near Cimtar."

"Why should we trust you?" Asked Jolly.

Athena ignored her command pilot's outburst. "We'll need to return to the Colonies as soon as possible. Can your cousin's station handle a battlestar?"

Shras looked at both of them. "Yes. Returning to your Colonies is a bad idea though. The Cylons have complete control of the system. There are no survivors….except for rumors that a few ships escaped, escorted by the Battlestar _Galactica_. You are from that battlestar?"

"No." Athena answered. The thought that the Colonies were already taken and that the Cylons had carried out their massacre of the human race was very hard to rationalize. She wanted to believe Shras was lying and that the remnants of the Colonial Fleet were holding their own. "Uncle William…" She whispered, knowing it was still optimistic to assume that since his ship survived, he had as well. Ever since her father died 18 years ago, William Adama had been a supportive presence in her life. It gave her a sense of hope, that even after this savage attack, he was still around. As for Lee, Aunt Caroline and her own mother…She tried not to think about what horrid fate had befallen them.

"Why do you want to help us? Like you said, the people here are only looking out for themselves." Jolly was still suspicious.

The felinoid glared at him. "I am the only help you can expect. Your nation is gone and others will appease the Cylons to avoid your fate."

"How much would this cost us?" The CAG continued.

"Cubits are worthless now. Besides, I'll think of something suitable."

"Do you have access to tylium?" Inquired Athena. She was not as weary as Jolly knowing they were doomed without assistance.

Shras' expression soften as he turn to her. "The Ovions have an extensive mining operation on Carillon.. It will be costly, say 5,000 Orion checks." Orion currency was a fairly universal economic tool. "There is a chancery on the station if you are need of funds."

"Let's go, Colonel." Jolly said disgustedly.

"Don't be too hasty, Colonel." Shras ignored the pilot and concentrated on the woman. "You could leave but with a damaged ship, just how far would you get before the Cylons overtake you? Take my offer, it is best you're going to get."

Several levels away, the Dockmaster Margon moved through the corridors with the authority his position gave him. Rather pompous, he looked upon others like a despot looks upon his people. Gaelatu was profitable, making him one of richest persons in the region. His gray sagging skin gave the impression he was melting, disappearing in the folds of his black robes.

He was accompanied by his squad of bodyguards, believing there were always scrupulous fellows on his station ready to steal from him or take his life. Piracy was kept in check mostly due to the humans but since their destruction, he feared the worse. His bottom line would be hurt by this.

Margon entered the man's assigned cabin. "You wanted to know if others of your species came here.." He did not divulge anything else until a bag of Orion checks was placed before him. 'Two have arrived, male and female on the Shuttle _Tango_. It is a Colonial raptor."

Aaron Dorel did not say anything so Margon continued. "For a man whose homeworld has been reduced to an nuclear wasteland, you seemed awful composed.' Again, he elicited no response. "I would prefer that you and these other humans be off my station before you attract unwanted guests."

"Don't worry Margon, it will soon be over."

The dockmaster grumbled, picked up his money and left. Dorel went over to his computer and with great ease, hacked into the station's security surveillence net. Locating two humans among the thousands of organics on Gaelatu would have been a formidable task, for an organic…Not a Cylon. It knew the humans were not from the _Galactica_. There were many possibilities but it assumed _Columbia_, a crippled battlestar that needed repairs.

It began to skim its options. A bomb or tracking device on their raptor would serve well but Dorel considered another option. What if the _Columbia_ had made contact with other fleeing ships; other battlestars not already destroyed?


	5. Wolf In The Fold

A scuffle nearby alerted Athena, Jolly and Shras. What they found was a blonde human female being held by four Zsar'In, a reptilian species known specifically in the galaxy as pirates and thugs.

"What's going on here?" Athena demanded.

The lead Zsar'In, his yellow slitted eyes narrowed in on the big felinoid. "With the human coloniess desstroyed Shras, we have an opportunity to make ssome money. With the two you have and thiss one, we could ssell to the sslave market on Spartacus or even to the Cylonss."

"Release the woman, Stayrr." Shras pulled out his alien blaster. Athena and Jolly followed his lead by aiming their own guns as well.

The Zsar'In holding the woman put a plasma blade to her throat. The weapon was a hilt that released a plasma stream six inches long, that was contained in a limited magnetic field. It was said that it could cut through anything, even diamond, with little effort.

"Why do you do this?" Hissed Stayrr. "With all the trouble they have caused us, I woundn't have taken you as a humanphile."

"Unhand her Stayrr, I won't be asking again."

Stayrr bared his sharp teeth, each capable of slicing to the bone. Shras fired his blaster. The plasma blade disintegrated and so did Stayrr's hand.

As Stayrr screamed, Jolly pulled the blonde woman free. Another Zsar'In aimed, hissing an expletive. His target was the CAG. Athena whispered her own expletive. "Frak." She pulled the trigger and the bullet impacted the Zsar'In in the chest. His exoskeleton bore the brunt of the projectile and pushed him back; his shot exploded high of Jolly.

Stayrr raised his severed, cauterized limb. "You will pay for this." He retreated with his subordinates.

"What the hell was that?" Athena asked the big Khressari.

"I told you to leave. No human Colonies and Colonial Fleet to protect you. Humans have become a commodity or a bargaining chip with the Cylons. Stayrr will return with more of his kind."

The XO holstered her pistol and walked over to the blonde. "Who are you and how did you get out here?" The woman was dressed in a red miniskirt, Ovion silk blouse and a waist length leather coat. She also wore cosmetics and jewelry.

"Cassiopeia Rhaion, but my friends call me Cassie. I got stranded here by the_ Rising Star _after a disagreement and have been attempting to purchase passage back home…Well that's changed hasn't it."

"I'm Colonel Athena Adama and he's Captain Kevin Seth."

Cassie smiled. "Seems both our parents had a sense of humor when it came to naming us huh?"

"Should be a privilege to be so named after the gods." Interjected Jolly.

"Trust me Captain, it's no picnic. I don't want to impose but if I could get a ride with you guys that would be great…"

Athena nodded. "Sure." She didn't know what to make of the other woman. Possibly a socialator and doing a damn fine job of it if Jolly's ogling was any indication. "We best get moving."

"You won't be able to take any of the primary corridors to the landing deck. There are likely more unsavory types that you will run into. I suggest an alternate route." He tapped a wall monitor that gave the nonclassified deck schematics.

"What did that Zsar'In mean by the trouble we've been causing you?" Jolly eyed Shras suspiciously. "It seems to me you'd be just as eager to sell us. You a smuggler, a pirate perhaps?" The CAG never holstered his gun.

Shras smiled which revealed his fangs. 'We don't go into space to see the pretty nebula. Profit, I'm more than willing to admit it. Most on this station I imagine are in some sort of business, legal or otherwise. Most will kill for a few checks or other convertible currency. I want to help you repair your ship - for a price because I'm a greedy bastard but also I'm a realist. The Cylons will come for the rest of us sooner or later; I'd rather not be subjugated by a bunch of robots. I'll get the necessary tylium from Carillon and meet you at Cimtar."

Athena grudgingly accepted him though Jolly was still very much uncertain as they all headed for the flight deck.

**S**tayrr with his fellow Zsar'In did not like loosing Cassie and were intent on recouping their losses. The removal of the Colonials was not yet looked upon as the beginning of the end of civilization of organic beings. Such a heavy debate had not entered their collective consciousness. All they saw was the elimination of the humans need to enforce justice, even on others. No patrol ships meant contraband could cross-space much easier.

They saw a human male walking alone. He looked to be totally unarmed, which was incredibly stupid as far as Stayrr was concerned. Easy pickings.

Stayyr stepped in front of the man while his thugs circled behind. "Look what we found here. A human." He hissed.

"I don't want any trouble."

The Zsar'In cackled in their caustic version of laughter.

"Step aside and I'll let you live."

The cackling ended. Stayrr's eyes were but slits as he growled his displeasure. "We are more than a match for a weakling." He activated another of his plasma blades, willing to avenge the loss of his hand on anyone at this moment.

Aaron Dorel did not have the time for such chest thumping antics. His hand darted out so quickly that before any of the Zsar'In realized their advantage had reversed; Stayrr's throat was in a vice that was closing.

Stayrr tried to stab Dorel but the blade was knocked aside. Before his companions acted, Stayyr was released, his neck broken.

Sweuk was the strongest and he put Dorel in a bear hug from behind. Normally with this much pressure exerted, death would happen swiftly. The Cylon shoved Sweuk's arms apart with ease. The big Zsar'In attempted the same kill move as Dorel had done on Stayrr, hands wrapped around the neck.

Dorel grabbed a hold of each of Sweuk's forearms and squeezed until the radius and ulna snapped in two. Sweuk howled from the pain and it was enough for the other Zsar'In to run off.

The Cylon stared at the wounded Sweuk who was holding out his broken arms in utter dismay. Humans were weak, he thought. How could…

"I told you to step aside now look what you made me do." Said Dorel.

Sweuk was not done yet and with gapping jaws was going to rip the arrogant human apart with the razor sharp, double rowed teeth. Dorel stopped this attack as easily as the others. He ripped off Sweuk's mandible and tossed it to the floor. The reptilian's eyes were as wide as they could go while blood from his wound dripped down to cover his torso. His narrow tongue was moving about in an effort to talk but his words were incomprehensible.

Dorel brushed off the blood speckles from his clothes before walking away. Other aliens who happened to witness the one-sided fight gave him a wide berth. "Extermination may proceed." He said into his built-in transmitter.

**D**orel arrived on the landing deck in time to see Shras' spacecraft powering up. The raptor was easy to pick out of the dozens of ships. Athena was looking in his general direction so he began waving his hands and shouting. "Colonials! Wait for me, please wait for me!"

Athena motioned for the others to continue boarding and remained standing outside the craft. She watched as he weaved around flight crews and parked ships. When he finally reached her, he smiled. "I'm glad to see humans for a change. The name's Aaron Dorel." He put out his hand so Athena shook it. "Colonel Athena Adama. Are there any more humans here?"

"I don't think so. The aliens around here are getting a bit hostile. I had a run in with some Zsar'In…" He looked over his shoulder, feigning worry that they might still be chasing him.

She also looked across the deck. None of the aliens present appeared to be intent on harm now but that could change. "Climb aboard Mr. Dorel." His smile would appear to his 'fellow' humans as gratitude of finally being saved. He appreciated the irony, a wolf in the fold. He, of the very Enemy that the humans were trying to flee from. The Edict of Extermination could not be stopped for it was God's Plan and therefore was destined to succeed.

**M**argon the dockmaster sat in his office. Several computer monitors gave him the status of ships in his docks for repairs and others for supplies and/or R&R. It would have been a profitable year if it wasn't for the Cylon attack on the human colonies. Now a sense of apprehension would flow across the galaxy and with it, loss of revenue.

As far as he knew, there were no more humans on the station and so, he thought, his safety was secure. The Cylons were hunting humans after all so as long as he kept that species off, everything would work out.

His comm chirped._ "Dockmaster, Lyis wants his yacht put ahead of the line. He is willing to offer 500,000 should you agree."_

Margon smiled. "Put his yacht for the first available spot in the docks and bring the money to me." He was about to add this to his profit margin, nearly enough to purchase that moon he had his eye on when looking out the window, a large ship suddenly came out of jump just off the starboard side of the station. He had never seen one before but had heard enough from others to know that he was looking at a Cylon basestar.

The comm chirped again. _"Dockmaster, a Cylon-."_

He cut him off. "I know you idiot. Hail them and say we don't have any humans aboard. Stress it!" It felt like an eternity as he looked outside waiting for a response from the control room. The response came instead from hundreds of missiles being launched…All heading in his direction.


	6. Settling In

_Ship's Journal: 4.9.612CAP_

_The Columbia remains a target, as it still requires extensive repairs. I dare not send out a signal should it be intercepted by the Cylons. As it is now, we have not heard of any other survivors and so expect the worse. I have ordered Colonel Adama to report to the Situation Room with her report and hope it will spell our survival._

Commander James Vinn was silent after Athena reported what had transpired on Gaelatu. He was standing at one of the view ports in the Situation Room looking out into the Void. Several minutes passed before he spoke. "Do you trust this Shras, Colonel?"

"I don't think we have a choice, Sir. We need a space dock and if our run in with the Zsar'In is any indication, Gaelatu is too dangerous."

"You don't agree with her assessment, Captain?"

Jolly rested his hands on the conference table. "The aliens are definitely exploiting our predicament but so is Shras. I can't say without a reasonable doubt that he can be trusted. For all we know, the space station at Cimtar is a trap."

"We are in a bit of a bind. The _Columbia_ is not combat ready as is so we need a space dock. That's reality. If you think Gaelatu is problematic then that leaves the station at Cimtar. To be honest, I have to be cautious." Vinn sat back at the conference table. "I want two Raptors sent out. One to check out this space station and another to see what's happening with the Colonies. They are obviously not to engage the Cylons and simply report what they have seen."

"Yes Commander." Jolly replied. "I'll get on it now if that's okay?"

"Proceed Captain." Vinn watched his CAG leave then turned to Athena. "What do we know about these civilians, Dorel and Rhaion?"

"No more than what they've told us. Stuck on Gaelatu awaiting transport back to the Colonies. They were lucky to have been marooned." The XO responded.

"May the gods protect us."

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Aaron Dorel was aboard the battlestar except unlike the _Galactica_, this one had definitely seen better days. Crewmen were busy making repairs practically everywhere he looked. It had been a Cylon oversight not to have destroyed the _Columbia_ initially, giving it a chance to crawl-yes crawl- away. However, a crippled battlestar was still a threat and he was fully aware the Edict of Extermination meant all of humanity.

For reasons he was unaware of at first, he could not make contact with his kind. At first, he considered some sort of dampening device or a malfunction of his transmitter. Then it occurred to him. The very reason the _Columbia_ was hiding in the Void was that it foiled such efforts. He considered planting explosives but what prevented him from simply carrying out the Edict was the lack of information. The Cylons were only aware of the _Galactica_ and her convoy as the sole survivors. If another vessel still existed, there may be more and what if those aboard knew the location of other Colonial units?

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Cassiopeia was assigned to share Ensign Rigelian's quarters. It was hardly spacious but an extra bunk could easily be put in place. A small statue of Artemis was situated in a place of respect as well as some family photos.

Chryseis was courteous and demure as she showed where everything was and where Cassie could keep what few possessions she had. Cassie was more impressed with the simple shower unit having to forgo for longer than she'd like to remember and began pulling off her clothes.

Cassie had lived with a dozen women aboard the _Rising Star_ as well as other locations where her talents were utilized. It never occurred to her that her new roommate would find it uncomfortable. "I'm sorry; I was just going to take a shower."

"Yes Ma'am." Chryseis responded trying not to look directly at the partially clad woman.

"You seem a little shy to be chief security officer, Ensign." Cassie said jokingly as she slipped off her underwear and stepped into the shower alcove.

"My upbringing I suppose. I'm from Virgon."

"That explains it." Cassie nodded to the statuette of Artemis. "She is also the goddess of virtue."

"I'll get you some clean clothes Ma'am." Chryseis picked up Cassie's discarded attire from the floor.

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On the flight deck, Jolly had assembled a few pilots. All looked the worse for wear as they dealt with the invasion in their own way. That they survived seemed to bring on guilt to some but all were interested in vengeance.

"We have two assignments that will each require a raptor." Said Jolly as he began the briefing. There was some utterances of disgust that the assignments didn't involved vipers. "We've been given information of a possible repair station near Cimtar that will require observation. If it's a go, the _Columbia_ will be getting herself together at that location so it's very important that it checks out. Secondly, we are going to check out the colonies, see what's been happening and hopefully contact other Colonial units. There is to be no direct action against the Cylons for obvious reasons so keep to the rules of engagement. I will be aboard the raptor going to the station. Lieutenant Giles and Flight Sergeant Ortega will go to the Colonies. Lieutenant Rhodes, you're with me."

Brie Rhodes was a female raptor pilot who had graduated from flight training only a few weeks before the invasion. A little green when it came to flight time, she made up for in knowledge of the craft and a go-getter attitude. Frasco Ortega was one of the noncom raptor pilots who had loads of experience but lacked social skills that often got him in trouble. With fewer pilots, Jolly did not have much of a choice. Renzo Giles was assistant CAG and next to Jolly, was one of the best pilots in the fleet. He had done well in 'top gun' school and had all the right moves for career advancement had it not been for the end of civilization. Giles gained the callsign 'Sparky' when he was forced to land his viper on its belly when the landing gear malfunctioned.

"Sir, with all due respect, you expect us to go to the Colonies without viper escort with multiple hostiles in the area?" Ortega grimaced. "You might as well stick a target on our backsides."

"We have our orders, Ortega." Jolly snapped, not wanting to get into an argument over something that was not going to change. "Chief!" The CAG looked at the flight deck chief. "We'll need two raptors ready to go."

"Sir, what do we do if we run into the Cylons?" Asked Brie, her red hair kept in a regulation style that Jolly had not adequately enforced since the invasion. She was definitely a promising pilot whose next step would have been in the cockpit of a viper.

"We make a jump back home and report our findings to our superiors." Jolly answered matter-of-factly. "We do not, under any circumstances engage them."

"Understood, Sir." Answered Brie.

Ortega's only response was a look of disgust as he left to get prepped. The flight deck specialists were already getting two of the raptors ready, topping up their tanks, checking the comp and life support systems.

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Dr. Sorrel Antos had been relatively busy in the Life Center with wounded crew. She had already lost six that succumbed to their injuries. She was also feeling the affects of exhaustion, being simply run off her feet by the sheer number of patients.

As the hours passed, so too did the crisis become somewhat manageable with the help of any crewmember with any advanced first aid training. When she was introduced to the Khessari, it was a surprise since the entire crew was composed of humans.

Shras stared at the doctor as well, not sure, why he was brought here and not particularly happy about it. "Why am I here?" He barked though the medical staff nearby looked quite annoyed.

"Standard protocol. To prevent possible contamination between species." She had a hand-held scanner which she swept over him. "It is for your own good too."

"Khessari are a hardy people and will not be defeated by some human germ." He declared and if looks alone were sufficient, then his leonid appearance would frighten even the worse away.

"Just the same, I don't need you taking up valuable bed space." She smiled so that he would accept her meaning as humor. "Well you're a healthy specimen."

"You did not need your scanner for I could have told you this myself." Shras replied bluntly. "Are we through?"

Sorrel nodded.

Shras took it upon himself to leave and with his large frame towering over others in the LC, he was given a clear path.

As he departed, Cassie entered. "I was told you needed people with advanced first aid."

"Yes. You are certified?" Sorrel seem surprised, possibly because she heard the new arrival had been a socialator.

"You'd be surprised what a woman in my line of work has to deal with." Cassie didn't elaborate, dressed in a t-shirt and fatigues that Runa had acquired for her.

"Very well. Report to the head nurse and she'll get you started." Sorrel watched as Cassie began her volunteer work but she was quickly interrupted by an urgent request for a patient in distress.

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Dorel had hacked into a computer, an easily performed function for a Cylon, and began looking through the restricted files. When he got to the communication directory, he soon came to a wall that no amount of deciphering would achieve results. Though the _Columbia_ was modernized with computer networking, this had radically changed as a result of the recent battle. The comps were no longer linked to prevent another EMP episode from crashing the entire mainframe.

He considered it a minor setback and located the comm relay terminal on the schematics. CCTV and internal sensors were either sporadic and offline in large patches of the battlestar so he was not so worried of being detected. Also with damaged bulkheads, poor lighting or other safety concerns, there were not as many people to catch him anyway. Marines were still about but mainly assisting search and rescue operations rather than sentry duty. He did not blame the humans for their carelessness for none of them were aware of Cylon advancements in android production. The crew still believed the threat was from OUTSIDE the ship, not within her.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vinn and Athena stood on the CIC as reports filtered in from all over the ship. The main screen revealed the crimson glow of the Void and the two Raptors that seemed so insignificant in it.

"Our hopes ride with them." The commander said.

Athena didn't reply, watching as both Raptors achieved their perspective jumps.


	7. Virgon

_Virgon_

Raptor 2 crewed by Lieutenant Renzo 'Sparky' Giles and Flight Sergeant Frasco 'Wildcat' Ortega came out of jump in the home system. Their position was closer to Virgon, homeworld of many of the _Columbia's_ crew and site of her construction. Ortega did not think it was by accident that they came here instead of, say Caprica, but did not put words to his thoughts.

Giles' initial scan was inconclusive. Like the other colonies, it was subject to a nuclear attack. "Head for Spica City." Giles ordered.

"Exactly what are we doing?" Complained Ortega who was piloting. "I was under the impression that we were to take a peek and get the hell out of here. I would thing your scans would be enough to convince you there's enough toasters out here to _toast_ us."

"Just take her in, Sergeant."

Ortega sighed as he brought the Raptor in for an atmospheric entry. As the clouds disperse, they could see the devastation below. "Frak." He gritted his teeth, unable to control the temper that promised to overwhelm him. He had come from a small farming community and couldn't wait to enlist just to get away.

"Over there, is the Supradome. I used to play pro-Pyramid with the Spica City Knights. We never did make it to the Colonial Games…" The sports arena, like the rest of the city, suffered structural damage and the building nearby had at some point been consumed by flames and was nothing more than a blackened shell. Giles had assumed the city had been laid wasted by the nuke but much of it was still standing, albeit, in very poor shape. City hall and the museum, built with a classical look, survived though debris was piled up everywhere as if a cyclone had swept through. One thing was obvious, not one of its 3 million residents was visible.

"It looks deserted."

"Any one lucky to have survived would have headed for the Alpen Mountains." Ortega pointed to the majestic peaks to the east. "But radiation levels are high. Without meds, they wouldn't survive a day."

Giles saw the statue of his father, first Cylon War hero Admiral Giles still standing in Central Square. When he was young, he hated all the attention having such a famous parent. "We do a sweep for life signs."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Basestar 2490 was still following the Edict of Extermination as so ordered. Centurions had come across resistance from some human cells throughout the system but their numbers and resources were not adequate to prevent a total Cylon victory. For the most part, these resisters were civilians who lacked military tactics. Many failed.

Lucifer was keeping track of all this as data came through at nanosecond intervals; streams of it that no human could possibly have been able to take in all at once. Lucifer could. Beside him was one of the Humano-Cylons, 'Shelly Godfrey', more commonly known as Number Six.

"This is a failure. 59,000 humans have fled with the _Galactica_ and the _Columbia_ has not yet been found. This must be dealt with." Six said, dressed as provocatively as others of her model series did.

Lucifer may have been an older model but it still had seniority. "The situation is being dealt with." It answered rather sternly. It was distracted as another datastream in binary code appeared. "A colonial raptor has been observed entering Virgon's atmosphere. Order the raiders to intercept and destroy-."

Six interrupted him. "Do not be hasty Lucifer. We already know of humans from _Galactica_ being sighted on Caprica. This may be more of the same or from another battlestar."

Lucifer stared at her with its glowing red eyes. Six could almost see its 'brain' activity through the transparent dome that made up its head. "What do you suggest?"

"I'll deal with them myself."

Lucifer would have preferred a simple approach such as blasting the raptor into subatomic particles but then he was not programmed to be a spy provocateur. "Proceed."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The raptor landed near the Giles statue. Both Giles and Ortega took their anti-rad meds before disembarking. Ortega thought the LT was acting fraking strange but then he was just a noncom. If anything happened, it would be Giles' fault.

Giles took out a pair of binoculars and scoped the area out. The raptor's sensors didn't pick up any electrical pulses - indicative of machines, like Cylons, in the vicinity.

"Have you noticed that we haven't seen one body?"

The flight sergeant sighed. "And what of it? The city took a nuclear strike maybe the bodies simply disintegrated in the blast."

"If so, why are the buildings still standing?"

Ortega passed the lieutenant a SMG. Best play safe and the noncom was wishing this little sightseeing tour would come to a halt right here and now but Giles started moving out, crossing the debris field of Central Square. "There's not going to be any survivors."

Giles didn't listen and kept moving across the square.

'Wildcat' Ortega put his hand through his blond hair as he uttered a few well chosen curses. After taking a quick check of the Raptor and locking the hatch, he proceeded to follow his much shorter superior.

When he entered city hall, he stopped just inside. Giles was in a bad way in one of the seats in the lobby. Like outside, debris was scattered about and a thick coat of dust covered every surface as if they were at an archeological dig instead of a city that was once striving with life less than 24 hours ago.

Wildcat didn't say anything as he leaned against a tourist poster that portrayed Spica City as a nice place to raise a family. After a few minutes, Giles spoke though he sounded depressed. "My sister worked here; in the mayor's office…I couldn't find her body, not a fraking body anywhere."

Ortega had joined the Service to get away from his family, that they probably perished didn't phase him. "She's in a better place." He also wasn't much for religion but figured mentioning the Afterlife was often encouraging to those who believed.

"We should check the Alpen Mountains, do a bio sweep…" Giles was ramblings, thinking out options in his head.

"We should be heading back to the _Columbia_. Our mission was to see the situation and we've done that. The Toasters have reduced us to an endangered species and the colonies have more radiation than a microwave. Anyone who could even survive a nuclear attack would succumb to radiation poisoning without adequate supply of anti-rad meds. You know this, Sparky. We're not going to find anybody; all we're doing is allowing the fraking Toasters to zero in on our position. If you remember, we got a Raptor not some fancy Viper out there."

"You're from here for Kobol's sake. Aren't you a bit concerned about your family, friends…Anybody but yourself?" Giles stood up, dusting himself off.

"I'm alive and I'd like to keep it that way."

"You're a real piece of work, Ortega. Aphrodite must have forgotten to give you a heart."

The sergeant sighed then stepped back out through the gaping hole that once were doors. He lit up a cigarette as he waited, his eyes panning the area for the glint of reflected metal indicative of possible centurions. What he saw made him drop his cigarette from his mouth. If his eyes were not playing tricks, he saw a blonde woman on the other side of the Square. He took out his binoculars for a closer look but lost sight of her because of the rubble.

"Sparky! We might have a fraking survivor!" He paused. "I don't fraking believe it."

Giles ran out. "Survivor? Where?"

Ortega pointed across the Square. "Over there." He found himself following Giles again as the LT ran as best he could over the obstacle course that separated them from the woman.

Once on the other side, the mystery woman was nowhere to be seen. "Are you sure you saw someone?" Asked Giles, starting to think Ortega was playing a rather morbid joke on him.

"It was just for a split micron but I swear on my life that's what I saw." Ortega was beginning to get creep out. Could he have thought he saw someone after just talking about survivors moments before?

Both men swept the area with their SMG, ready to unleash a barrage if warranted for tension, always a soldier's companion, was growing.

Then came a blonde head poking over the ruins. She was covered in dust but overall looked reasonably well, considering what had taken place.

"By the Gods." She said as she rushed toward them. Giles had already let his guard down at the sight of such a beautiful woman. Ortega was surprised but lowered his gun gradually as if expecting the second boot to drop.

"You're safe." Giles slung his SMG over his shoulder and put out his hand to help her climb over the rough ground. "I'm Lieutenant Renzo Giles; this is Flight Sergeant Frasco Ortega. Is there anyone else with you?"

Ortega peaked over the rubble hoping another blonde or perhaps a redhead was coming.

"No, I haven't seen anybody for centars." She answered as she towered over the diminutive Sparky, who feeling subconscious by the height disadvantage stepped on a piece of granite. Noticing their ship patches, she added. "You're from the _Columbia_? Thank goodness, is your ship in orbit?"

Ortega was going to give a vague response but Giles beat him to it. "No, the _Columbia_ is in the safety of the Void. Trust me; the Toasters are going to regret what they did to us."

Six caressed Giles' chest. "Looks like I'm in capable hands."

Wildcat sighed. "What's your name Ma'am?"

"Shelly Godfrey. I was luckily outside the city when the Cylons came." Responded Six who could already see that Giles was putty in her hands, not unlike her predecessor's manipulation of Gaius Baltar before the invasion. Her form was pleasing and she knew how to use it.

"Don't you worry, Shelly." Giles said then turned to Ortega. "Sergeant, see that Miss Godfrey gets some rations and water." He then turned back to Six. "We'll take you out of here."

"Excellent." She purred. It would only be a matter of time before the _Columbia_ joined the long list of destroyed battlestars and they could concentrate in full on the _Galactica_ fleet.

Ortega grumbled but motioned for Six to follow him back to the Raptor. They didn't get a foot away when gunfire struck near her.

"She's a fraking Cylon!" Came the voice of a woman wearing a viper flight suit, taking aim yet again.

Six grabbed Giles by the throat and forcibly tossed him aside taking his SMG in the process. Ortega tried to bring his own into action when she struck him, sending him tumbling down over the debris. She unleashed her own barrage against the woman pilot who took cover. Bullets seem to be flying everywhere. Giles was gasping for air as he unholstered his sidearm. She turned, smiling as she did when the woman pilot's slug ripped into her.

She still stood as Giles emptied his clip into her as well. "Die you motherfraker, die" His throat to sore to speak above a whisper. He felt like shit to be so taken by a beautiful face and the very idea that Cylons had androids in their arsenal was a frightening concept to him.

Six fell to the ground, a dozen or so bullets had perforated her body. The first thing Giles had noticed was blood, not oil or some other mechanical lubricant. This made him think he had killed the wrong target and he tore his SMG out of Six's death grip, as the woman pilot was less than ten feet away.

"Stay where you are!" Giles ordered, training his weapon on the stranger.

"Relax!" She shouted, raising her hands up thus pointing her own weapon away from him. "I'm Lieutenant Deitra Gedrin, from the _Atlantia_. I lost power in my viper and crashed if you can believe that." Not seeing a positive response continued. "I don't have time for this shit! I need to report in to Admiral Nagala. If you got a ride I'd appreciate getting back to my ship." She had Oriental features with spiked red hair which certainly didn't look like regulation style. She did sport the _Atlantia's_ patch on her sleeve of a uniform that was torn and scorched. It wouldn't surprise him if she had moved a certain way, that it simply crumble from her body.

"The _Atlantia_ is gone and it looks like most of the fleet as well." He hadn't lowered his SMG, still unsure of her.

"Frak! You can't be fraking serious!"

"Look around, does it look like we have the upper hand? I haven't been able to survey the system but at least Picon, Virgon and Caprica have been hit by multiple strikes. With the Cylon strength, I wouldn't be surprised if all the colonies look like this."

"I'm not a Cylon so stop pointing your gun at me." She was only a few feet away. "Dammit, look…" She lowered her weapon slowly until the barrel was level with Six's head. She fired three shots at close range and it ripped the corpse's head apart. Inside was the most sophisticated artificial brain he had ever seen. "Looks like they've been busy over the yahrens perfecting their toys. She's not the only model. I've seen at least two more."

Ortega had came back over to them, rubbing his aching shoulder from his recent fall "That's not like any Toaster I've seen before."

"Flight Sergeant Ortega, meet Lieutenant Gedrin from the _Atlantia_."

"A redhead." Ortega smirked. "You're a little off your beaten path."

"So are you. Listen, unless you want tumors infesting your body, we got to get off this rock now."

"What about survivors?" Giles hoped that his sister had somehow made it.

"I didn't see anyone."

Machine gunfire erupted near them and Giles took one. The whizzing bullets didn't lighten up as rubble was chewed up, spitting out bits of granite. Deitra pulled open his flight jacket. The bullet had gone through and through but he was losing blood. "We need to get her back to the ship. Okay. Give me your gun I'll see if I can't give you cover fire."

Ortega saw the wound and came out with the same conclusions though was slow to react.

"I'd carry him but it wouldn't be pretty." She added which seemed to spark Wildcat into action.

Ortega picked up Giles as Deitra opened up with the pair of SMGs. Sure enough at least three centurions were visible firing off their built in machine guns and they were laying down enough slugs to rival a single heavy caliber weapon. "Frak. Move your ass Sergeant, no time for the scenic route!" She shouted, firing a burst from both guns. The centurions didn't look or act like the slow-moving robots she read about in the history books. She tried to slow them down and finally mangled one of the centurion's head that it collapsed. She did a quick glance over her shoulder to see that Ortega was nearly to the Raptor. With a deep breath, another burst from the SMGs, she ran toward the other pilot.

The Raptor exploded in front of them, sending debris high in the air. Only heavy ordinance could have achieved such a startling effect and it wasn't long before it was evident. A Cylon Tigris, a heavy tank, accompanied by a platoon of centurions, including a gold first centurion immerged. With them was another Six, dressed in combat fatigues for the occasion.

The Tigris, like the raider, was a smart weapon, fully computerized and operated without a crew. The Cylons perfected this killing machine over the half century because even with a Scorpion Mark IV, a modern Colonial tank built by Scorpian Armaments, it would be inadequate for the task at hand.

Ortega wished he was lucky to have a Scorpion right now in any event as flames licked the remains of his Raptor. Another shell exploded so close the blast knocked them to the ground.

Deitra noticed a damaged but drivable police car. "Go!" She ordered then returned fire. The Cylons backed by the menacing Tigris were making easy progress, even over the rough terrain. She was getting in when she heard a Cylon, grabbed the shotgun strapped inside, swung around and fired. The pellets blasted its head off just before it was to fire off its own guns. Noticing that Toaster was from a squad that was attempting to cut them off, she put the car in gear and floored the accelerator. Ortega had seat belted himself in just in time as a centurion went over the hood, crashed against the windshield and off the side.

The car was peppered by slugs as she tried to avoid a predictable pattern that the machines around would not easily plan for. A near miss by the tank threw up a cloud of dust that helped them escape the noose.

"There's a hospital at the corner of 3rd and 14th." Wildcat suggested.

Deitra drove like a demon, narrowly avoiding derelict cars all over the place, creating an obstacle course they could have lived without. "How is he?"

"I'm no doc but if he doesn't get some help real soon…We got to stop the bleeding."

Looking through the rearview mirror, she saw a pair of drones in pursuit. They were jet propelled weapon platforms.

"Here." She tossed the shotgun over. "We got company."

Ortega pointed the shotgun out the window and fired, hitting one of the drones which spewed black smoke before crashing to the ground. His second shot went wide because the other drone reacted to the threat. It fired off a missile and they only avoided it when Deitra veered the car into a tight right turn. The missile impact against the building, which having become unstable after already being buffeted by a nuke strike, crumbled.

"Fadercrap!" Ortega bellowed as he tried to steady his aim. He almost lost the shotgun after they sideswiped a car and when ahead there was no room to avoid a road jam, she did what every desperate driver did while being pursued by a drone; she made her own exit. She drove the car through the windows of the luxury hotel's lobby, coming out onto the other side of the corner, narrowly striking a bus. She slammed on the brakes and did a 360 degree turn.

"Shoot the motherfraker!" Deitra shouted as the drone finally came into view. Ortega did not have to be told twice and fired. Like the first, this one was reduced to spare parts.

All this time, neither of them witnessed signs of life.


	8. Cimtar station

_Battlestar Columbia_

Commander James Vinn listened as Jolly gave his report. "So Shras' cousin no longer controls the Cimtar station."

"It seems he was in debt to the Scorpian Cartel who took over operations recently. Considering they are a bunch of criminals, Commander, I'm not so sure about letting ourselves be so exposed under their care." Responded Jolly. "They are as apt to sell us out as the aliens."

"Except the Cartel are as human as we and thus as much a Cylon target. Things have radically changed since the invasion, Captain and as vile as the Cartel may be, they may be our only hope. You, yourself have told me that the Gaelatu station was far too dangerous. Our options have not improved to be so selective."

"Gaelatu station was destroyed by the Cylons." Added Jolly.

"So it seems that Cimtar will have to be our destination." Vinn looked at his chronometer then grabbed the phone. "Lieutenant Vega, has Raptor 2 reported in?"

The CIC deck officer answered after conferring with a subordinate. "Lieutenant Giles and Flight Sergeant Ortega have not returned as yet, Commander."

"Keep me posted, Lieutenant." Vinn hung up the phone.

"If they haven't returned by now, it is possible that something happened. Permission to organize a scouting mission."

Vinn didn't answer as he stroked his beard.

It was then that Colonel Athena Adama spoke up. "I want them found as much as you, Jolly but we have to concentrate our efforts on repairing the _Columbia_ and with main power down that means the pilots are our only defense."

"Vipers that can be shut down like that." Jolly snapped his fingers. "Isn't much of a defense."

"I have Lieutenant Vega's report. The Cylons were not using EMP as we originally believed but a computer virus that spread through out our integrated system. As the vipers also used advanced electronics, they fell prey too." Vinn stood up and looked out the window at the blood red Void they found themselves in.

"So we have been reduced to the dark ages." The CAG held up one of the hand-held radios that had been used instead of the comm units.

"We have been lulled into a sense of false security by our technology that we forgot our enemy uses against us. The Colonel's uncle was right to limit it and that is why the _Galactica _survived and is not rubble in the home system like so many other…modern battlestars. I've ordered Chief Kessler to refit our existing vipers with monotronic computers."

"Monotronic computers, like the Mark II over half a century ago. The Mark VII will be impossible to fly without the advanced systems. We might as well be using tugs." Jolly grumbled.

"It is true that the Mark VII won't be as smooth with the monotronics but I'm sure our pilots will adapt. This is not up to debate, Captain. If you want Green Squadron to exist at all, it needs these revisions. I suggest when the time is suitable that your pilots begin training on them." Vinn sighed as he returned to his seat.

"And what about Sparky and Wildcat?" Jolly sighed, not liking this situation at all. "I - we - can't afford to lose two good pilots if Colonial Warriors are all that stands between the Cylons and the _Columbia_."

"Captain-."

Vinn cut off Athena. "I'm not taking this lightly. There are a number of possible reasons they haven't returned and one of them is being killed in action."

"Or shot down on one of the colonies."

"Captain Seth, we're going to have to check out the Cimtar station and make sure it's secure enough to bring the _Columbia_ into dock." Athena finally said, crossing her arms in a defiant pose.

Jolly put his hand through his hair as he walked over to the window. "The station has a dock that should adequately hold the _Columbia_. There wasn't a lot of activity."

'They don't want to attract Cylon attention." Added Athena.

"Neither do we." Vinn picked up his own hand-held radio. "Major Ojbo. Do we have enough power to achieve a FTL jump and what's your best time estimate on repairs?"

There was a delay from the chief engineer. _"A small jump at best. If I have a decent dock with enough raw materials to work with, four, five sectares would be a start but I'd prefer a yahren."_

"You don't have a yahren, Major. We'll be sitting ducks as it is so prioritize what has to be done in dock and work from there." She directed, speaking on the same frequency on her own radio.

"_Vega can reinstall the software and hopefully the navcom program will be operational again. That's one problem but the Columbia has suffered fractures and breaches that weaken our hull integrity. Jumping about without those repairs, well you can imagine what'll happen. A few sectares might be possible in a Fleet shipyard with an army of qualified engineers working around the clock. Since we lacked that option and are looking at other venues then I'll be stuck with civilian and/or alien engineers who have little or no experience servicing a battlestar."_

"Our options are limited, Major. We will be proceeding to jump coordinates 453.267.721. All I ask is that we have sufficient power to achieve the jump. There is a repair station that is big enough to handle the _Columbia_ but we have to take care of some security issues first." Vinn replied then set his radio down. "Assume for the moment that the criminal element controlling the station is willing to work with us. How do we hide our presence because if the Cylons detect us…Well we won't stand a chance now will we." He added, speaking to those in his office.

"Main reason for considering the Cimtar station was its isolated and was under alien control. During my recon, I never saw any indication of Cylon presence." Reported Jolly.

"You reported that the Gaelatu station was destroyed by the Cylons and that was an alien outpost."

Jolly turned to Athena. "Yes it was but all indications thus far was that the Cylons were targeting humans." He went over to the computer and pressed a few buttons. The display came on and an image of the Cimtar station appeared.

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Lucifer was in the command chamber of his basestar when another Six entered. The destruction of her clone on the surface of Virgon was a matter of war even if these were significantly more advanced than mere centurions. He found Six rather arrogant and wondered why the Imperious Leader would allowed such a character trait to be incorporated in her programming.

"The _Columbia_ is in the Void." Reported Six. She had received a download of the memory files from the previous version; one particular when Giles was a bit to trusting and revealed the battlestar's location.

"Of course. The Void's electromagnetic field would render our sensors ineffective." Remarked Lucifer. "Basestar 7449 is in the quadrant. Have them send their raiders to do a sweep of the Void."

"As you already have said, the Void will disrupt our sensors." Responded Six. "The raiders' navigational system will also be affected."

"Visual contact seems rather primitive but wide dispersal of our raiders will cover more area."

"By your command." Six then left to carry out the order.

Lucifer liked the sound of the response 'by your command', especially coming from the new Humano-Cylon model. his desire to be the next Imperious Leader -to have the third brain- and lead the empire was always on his neural net. He, like the others of the IL-Series, were all possible replacements and thus some had become highly competitive or devious -such as Spectre - The latest information was considered top grade intelligence. Time would tell if this was proven true.

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Raptor 1 jumped to the coordinates of the Cimtar station. Though they crossed several light years, it took mere microns to achieve it. Having FTL drives allowed the Raptors to be more than ECM craft for the CAP but as long-range scouts as well.

Jolly and Brie 'Flash' Rhodes were back aboard but so was Commander Vinn himself. Athena had been rather adamant that he not go because of the dangers involved. In the end, there was little she could do except request that he not go without armed escort. Ensign Runa Rigelian, having been assigned as chief security officer, was given this duty. Runa had not yet been tested in this position, having acquired it after the Cylon attack. Vinn hoped to see whether his faith in her was warranted.

Shras was not going with them for he agreed to purchase the tylium from the Ovions on Carillon on their behalf. Tylium was an important fuel for a battlestar that no longer had a homeport to go to.

Cimtar station was a rather odd construct. Much smaller than the Gaelatu station, it still maintained a large dock for heavy vessels. There was little activity except for two small ships at docking ports and an old freighter undergoing repairs.

Brie whistled involuntarily as she noticed one of the docked ships.

"Lieutenant?" Vinn asked, not understanding her action.

"Sir, that ship on the left is a Cedes 2000 yacht. Pure luxury and a FTL drive to boot. It must cost at least 20 million cubits or more." She explained from the ECO seat.

"Put your eyes back in your head, Flash." Jolly said from the pilot seat. "Do a sweep with Dradis."

Brie had the attention of everyone aboard when she finally replied. "No Cylon contacts."

"Of course, a closer inspection may prove me wrong but this station does not look promising. They lack a manufacturing platform…" Vinn stroked his beard feeling somewhat dejected.

"Cimtar operates through the black market. I would be surprised if they bothered building any parts themselves when they can bribe others to do it for them."

"You seem to understand these criminals, Captain." The Commander smiled. "I suggest we contact them before they decide to fire on us."

They were ordered to proceed to Landing Bay 3. There was no idle conversation, no polite greetings or emotional outbursts between them and the station.

When the Raptor landed, they were greeted by three men in business suits. Two hanging back carried SMGs while a muscular, goatee-wearing fellow, introducing himself simply as Deric.

"May I ask what business the military has on Cimtar Station?" Deric asked.

"We're here to see your supervisor." Vinn answered.

"What about?"

"A business proposition."

Deric stepped aside to talk on his phone in private. The armed men did not lower their weapons until Deric motioned them too.

"Mr. Sagremor will see you but I'm going to have to ask that you relinquish your weapons."

Jolly was reluctant to do so but Vinn nodded so their service pistols were taken from them. Deric used a hand scanner to detect any other object that could be lethal before allowing them entry.

"Stay with the Raptor." Jolly told Brie before moving ahead with the others. She let out a sigh, walked back to her ship, and sat on the step. One of the guards remained with her.

They entered the lift and Deric put in his access code then pressed for the level. It was Sagremor's domain, hence private and restricted.

Sagremor stood up from his desk. His physique rivaled that of Deric with fully developed biceps that strained his suit. The imposing black man was also tall, at least two metrons so that he towered over the _Columbia_ officers in his presence. His shaven head seem to rest directly on his shoulders as if his neck simply melted away. His chronometer, rings, and cufflinks were all solid gold and it was a good estimate that the yacht belonged to this man.

"My name is Aralt Sagremor." He said as he approached them. "A commander and three warriors. Is that all that is left of the mighty Colonial Fleet?" The mobster paused. "The Fleet had what, a hundred or so battlestars and what good did they do? Toasters didn't just win a battle, they won a fraking war!" He headed back toward his desk then spun around suddenly. "Perhaps I should thank you. With Sire Draken and the rest of the Cartel nothing but ashes on Scorpia, that leaves me in charge." He took out a fumarello, clipped the end and lit it up. "These will because rare I suppose. Well I'm going to get a lot of business now that I'm the only repair station for microns. Don't except cubits anymore…" He smirked as he took a puff.

"Don't you care-."

Vinn cut off Jolly's outburst. "The Cylon attack did kill billions and has made humanity an endangered species; all within 24 centares. In case you have forgotten, Mr. Sagremor, the Cylons target every man, woman and child…No exceptions. You and your people here on this station won't see a quantum of profit from this. You, like us, are on borrowed time."

"Cimtar is hardly a priority to them. I think we'll survive this mess, a whole lot better than you lot. For past transgressions against the Cartel, I could shot you or throw you out an air lock and no one would give a frak. Or I could sell you to the Toasters since your incompetence cost us our homes."

"You still don't get it. Didn't you hear what the Commander said; the Cylons are out to kill everyone. Your little group here isn't going to survive the massacre because you fancy it. Gaelatu was destroyed because it had just a few humans so what do you think when their sensors find this place?" Jolly snapped. He couldn't believe this guy was thinking of profiting from this.

"So why did you come? Drafting us into the Fleet or something?" Sagremor chuckled and his men followed suit. "Or just looking for sanctuary…I don't need the aggravation."

"If it's profit you want, then I can pay for the use of your space dock." Vinn hated it but he needed to repair the _Columbia_ and this station was it, regardless of the hoodlums running it.

"So how much can a bunch of military officers scrounge up? Dipping in to your retirement fund? We don't take cubits anymore and I don't take IOUs." Sagremor sat back down. "Why do you need my space dock? As you probably noticed, I got a freighter in dock so you're out of luck."

Vinn sighed inwardly. He was going to take a big risk but had little choice. "Your large dock is what I'm interested in."

"Large dock; big enough for a battlestar…You're that Adama fellow from the_ Galactica_." He pointed a finger at his guests.

"I'm Commander James Vinn of the _Columbia_. If you hate the Cylons as much as we do and value your continued existence, then I suggest you take our offer."

"You want to repair your battlestar here? The Fleet asking help from the Cartel. Sire Draken must be rolling over in his grave or wherever his body ended up. Why should I? Having your ship here will only draw the Toasters' attention and how do you expect to pay for the parts and labor at any rate? Sell your women, Commander?" Sagremor asked sarcastically.

Runa gritted her teeth but did not do anything to provoke a bloodbath since the goons still had SMGs leveled at them.

"This isn't about the Fleet and the Cartel. This is our collective need, as human beings, to survive and it will benefit both of us if we work together." Vinn was getting exasperated. Hope for his crew was in the hands of a gangster seemed almost laughable if it was not true.

"I'm short on patriotism, Commander. The Colonies are gone and that means we think of ourselves first."

"Then you're condemning yourselves to death. This station cannot hold off a Cylon phalanx little alone a basestar. They may not find you today or next week but they will come…"

Sagremor rubbed his chin. Having a battlestar docked at his station was a double-edged sword. It could make him a Cylon target but having squadrons of vipers to defend the station - and him - when the Cylons eventually came was becoming to agreeable. Alien rival gangs would also stand clear and allow him to properly build up a base of operations. What he needed though was cash. Yet... "I'll still need funds to purchase parts and to pay workers. It's still a market economy out there even if the Colonies don't exist anymore."

"What is this price?"

"20,000 quantums is a good start." Sagremor smiled greedily.

"We don't have that kind of money." Jolly fumed. He took a step forward and one of the guards pressed the muzzle of his SMG against the captain's chest.

"I'm a businessman. I'm sure we can come to some agreement." Sagremor motioned his thug to back off.

"I'm sure." Vinn attempted a smile though it lacked genuine feeling.

"Have your ship brought in, Commander and I'll see to getting the require materiel and manpower needed. Your crew will be allowed leave on the station in small numbers, none armed. Of course you will agree to a general amnesty for past crimes supposedly committed by myself and my colleagues so there won't be any future harassment."

There was little said afterwards and the _Columbia's_ officers headed back to the landing bay. Sagremor turned to Deric before he escorted the others. "May I have a word…?"

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Deric was pulling his gun out of its holster when all hell broke lose. One of the thugs accompanying him beat him to the punch but his target had not been the Colonial warriors but Deric and the other gunman.

"I'm DI Phelan Hunter of the Scorpian PD." The thug introduced himself to the surprise of Vinn and his officers.

"Detective Inspector?" Asked Vinn.

"I was sent undercover to build a case against the Cartel and ended up here when they acquired the station from the Khressari." Hunter explained. "What Sagremor told you back there was all feldercarb. He had no intention of allowing you to dock here."

"The _Columbia_ is too damaged to look for another repair station." Jolly informed the cop.

"Bring your ship here. The only way he could stop you is the Khressari ion cannon. I'll disable it and the communications array so he can't sell you out."

"Then what about Sagremor?" The CAG had picked up Deric's gun.

"He's a fraking murderer but he has connections that can get you the parts you'll need. I think he could be convinced to be more cooperative when he's staring down the barrels of your ship's batteries."

"And if you fail, I'll be bringing the _Columbia_ to her own demise. She won't survive a direct hit by an ion cannon, not in her current condition." Vinn wished the odds were more in his favor.

Runa had picked up the discarded SMG. "I'll stay and help Inspector Hunter, Sir."

The Commander nodded reluctantly.

"Captain, help me with these bodies." Hunter requested as he dragged Deric's corpse into the nearby airlock. Original plan had been to put the warriors' bodies inside so it was a rather ironic twist. Once the dead men were in place, Hunter pressed the open button. A red light came on as the outer door slid open. The bodies were sucked out into space.

Runa watched as Jolly and Vinn proceeded toward the landing bay. A voice inside her begged for her to reconsider and run after them. Being the new security chief meant making difficult decisions and this was definitely one of them. By her own choice, she was being left behind on a station filled with gangsters and other assorted cutthroats. One mistake could cost her and the _Columbia_ their very being.

She nervously handled the SMG in her hands and forced herself to look away as Jolly and Vinn disappeared through a hatch. Her eyes slowly turned toward Hunter. "You didn't have to kill them."

Hunter gave her the once over. Young and inexperienced but full of determination. He too was no commando so in a way they were closer in ways than either of them would have believed. "If you're not up to the job, I suggest catching up to your comrades. The bodies will give us a few centons of leeway." He motioned toward a corridor. "Come or go."

She sighed and followed him as he progressed through the station.

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As Vinn and Jolly moved cautiously back to the landing bay, it occurred to them that Brie too would be in danger if Sagremor's plan was to kill them all.

"Flash, this is Jolly come in." The CAG looked worryingly at his commander. Were they too late? "Flash…"

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Brie had been sitting on the ramp as the armed Cartel thug simply stood nearby . It was rather boring to stay put and mind the Raptor. The thug had already disarmed her for 'her own safety' so she could do little else but wait. Trying to start an idle conversation with Sagremor's henchman was ineffective so instead she gazed around the rather confined space of the landing bay. If the junk was taken out, it might hold a squadron of Vipers but that was being rather generous.

Her radio squawked about the time the guard began speaking into his headset.

"Read you Jolly. Do you need assistance, over?" She hoped so, give her something to do.

"_It's a trap!"_ Came the CAG's voice as the thug prepared to open fire. There was little in the way of alternatives for the young lieutenant who scrambled inside the Raptor. A spray of bullets peppered the hull as she struggled to get into the pilot's seat. She had no plan per se but was thinking on the wire and the ship was all she had.

She brought the Raptor to life, swinging it around so she could see the henchman. He had discarded his empty and useless SMG for something with a lot more clout. He had opened up a crate and was loading a rocket launcher.

"Felgercarb." She whispered as the realization of what was about to happen sunk in. The thug propped the RPG onto his shoulder with the utmost certainty that one direct hit would crack open the Raptor like a tin can.

Her hand, slightly trembling from facing a possible date with the Reaper, flipped the fire control switch that lowered the heavy caliber machine guns for use. She fired, the .50 cal slugs ripped into him as if he was no more an obstacle than paper. His finger twitched and the RPG also fired but the rocket went off course and plowed into the overhead bulkhead.

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Vinn and Jolly were almost at the landing bay when they heard and felt the explosion. The CAG went for his pistol only to remember they had been disarmed. He instead grabbed his radio. "Jolly to Flash, report your status."

There was an ominous 'dead air' over the radio but the crackled of a transmission brought relief to the two men.

"_I'm okay."_

"Get the Raptor ready for departure." Ordered Jolly.

"_What's going on?"_

"No time Lieutenant." Vinn cut in.

"Should we be leaving Rigelian here? We're trusting this cop a hell of a lot." Jolly asked as he opened the bay access hatch.

"We need this station, Captain because if we can't repair the _Columbia_ then its over." The Commander answered as they both walked toward the Raptor, their eyes momentarily taking in the blast area.

"Over?"

"Without repairs we're a sitting duck. If we can't fix the ship then we'll have to evacuate and hope to find a habitable world not ravaged by the Cylons. It's not my first choice if I can help it." Vinn felt heavy with the burdens he was carrying.

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Standing at a view port, Runa watched as the Raptor sped away from the station then suddenly jump. She was beginning to feel very much alone at a time when she was still trying to come to grips with the deaths of her family and billions of others.

"We won't have much time now." Hunter was standing at the maintenance ladder. "Sagremor will be wanting to know what's been going on and when he doesn't hear back from Deric…Are you okay?"

"Let's get this over with." She answered, attempting to look confident and followed Hunter up the ladder.

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Cylon Basestar 7449 was in position near the spatial phenomenon simply called the Void. As expected, scans revealed nothing but white noise. The order was given and hundreds of raiders were soon entering the Void.

Aboard Basestar 2490, Lucifer received confirmation that the search had begun and not to soon either.

"The Imperious Leader wants a progress report." Informed one of his first centurion adjutants.

Imperious Leader Barkol had been on the forward capital of Gamoray to witness the destruction of the human civilization.

Lucifer knew Barkol when he was but an IL-Series. How times had changed as Barkol, now three-brained, was also given a new model body uniquely for his position.

"_What is the status on our search for the Battlestar Columbia?"_

Lucifer chose his words carefully. The Imperious Leader had become fixated on the _Galactica_ and its fleet of civilian ships so any deviation had to be carefully explained. "We are currently searching the Void and should have favorable news soon."

"_I expect to hear that the Columbia has finally been destroyed within the centar."_

"It shall be done, Your Eminence."

"_Do not fail me Lucifer."_ The Imperious Leader warned as the signal ended.


	9. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Sire Gellar, Virgon's original representative on the Quorum of Twelve, was horrified with any dealings with the Cartel. "They should all be locked up on the Proteus penal colony not controlling our fate. You should have forced them to comply or had them arrested." The surviving councilor stood in front of Vinn's desk. His presence, regardless of his senior government position, was not required. "What do you plan on doing about this?"

"The _Columbia_ is going to be repaired at Cimtar station." Vinn controlled his temper and placed both hands, palm down, on his desk to prevent any unforeseen action on his part.

"There must be better alternatives? Really, Commander, I would have expected you of all people to understand."

"I do understand, Sire. Cimtar is the only facility available to us now that the Cylons have destroyed Gaelatu station. I'm sure you would have preferred the Scorpian Shipyards but they don't exist anymore. We have to take whatever comes our way, regardless of any personal reservations we may have."

"Mark my words, Commander, this is a very bad decision you have made on our behalf." The councilor stormed out of the office.

"That went well." Athena smirked. "I hate to be remotely sympathetic to Gellar but dealing with the Cartel, especially after they tried to kill you, is going to get messy."

"I imagine there will be difficulties ahead but I'm sure we can manage. Cimtar, as I've said a million times already, is our only option. We need the _Columbia_ fully functional if we expect any chance against the Cylons. We certainly can't stay in the Void for all of eternity with our tail between our knees, licking our wounds."

"But as one battlestar, you can't expect us to go up against the Cylons. That would be suicide." She reiterated.

"I'm well aware of our current status, Colonel."

Athena looked at the starchart. Beyond their sphere of influence, were millions of possible sanctuaries but no one rightly knew how large the Cylon's own sphere was and how far one had to go to get beyond it. "We should retreat to the outer rim, beyond Equellus and Sectar."

"Going beyond known space has its own set of problems. We have no idea what we could be facing."

"True, but we know what we're facing here, nothing short of a massacre." Athena shot back.

"What about heading for Borallus? We would have no problem shoring up our supplies." Jolly had been included in this meeting.

"The Cylons would certainly realize that fact as well." Vinn was feeling fatigue. No rest since the invasion and it didn't look like any would come soon. He was 67 yahrens old and been ready to retire had it not been for the Cylons. He had asked William Adama whether his niece was up to the challenge of replacing him as commander. It was a mute point now since the current events had never even been considered at the Academy and his five decades of experience would be more valuable that the spectre of the youthful and inexperienced Athena in command. "For now, we'll deal with getting repaired at Cimtar station."

"I want Green Squadron ready to go at a moment's notice. If this cop and Ensign Rigelian can't put the ion cannon out of commission, they'll be our only hope of knocking it our ourselves." Athena suggested then glanced back at the star map.

"Green Squadron is the only one refitted with the Monotronics so far." Added Jolly. "But my pilots have not had a chance to fly them yet. I've been putting them through the simulators but realistically, there is no experience except out there. If we run into the Cylons, we could lose a lot more than Blue Squadron." A reference to the squadron destroyed during the attack at Caprica.

"A couple of Vipers should be enough to knock out the cannon if it comes to that." He picked up the phone, as the telecom was finally operational. "Lieutenant Vega, begin the countdown to jump. Plot coordinates have already been computed on the navcom." After hanging up, he looked to his two officers. "That gives Ensign Rigelian and the policeman 33 centons. In the event they are not successful, I want you Captain to be ready to go out the launch tubes at a moment's notice. The Marines will have to secure the Station if Mr. Sagremor is not inclined to help." He rubbed his eyes knowing what laid in store could become a complete mess if not handled properly.

Jolly nodded. "Aye Sir." There was little more he could contribute and as he was leaving, Dr. Sorrel Antos was coming in. She had the most serious expression he could imagine a human to wear.

"Final death toll so far, 570. Some in ICU will require long term therapy or reassigned to duties that are more manageable." She passed him the list of the KIA.

He gazed at it. Some were familiar names. As a result of the invasion, there was likely no one to write home to concerning the deaths of these brave souls which irony would have it, spared him that agonizing task. "570." He knew it could have been far worse, less than an eighth of his crew, but some of these people were irreplaceable.

"You look tired. It couldn't hurt to get some sleep."

"Sleep is a commodity I can ill afford right now." He sat back in his seat. "Bet you haven't slept either. You should take your own advice."

"If you want to get some rest Commander, I-"

Vinn cut off his XO. "No, I'll be fine, Colonel. See that the ship is ready for the jump." When he was alone with the doctor, he sighed. "You came up here to tell me this? No offence, but the telecom would have been more expedient." He didn't mean to sound so harsh.

"Among the dead are members of my medical staff which hampered my abilities to treat the wounded…"

He came around and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You're carrying a heavy burden but the responsibility for those killed is ultimately mine, as commander of this vessel. You did all you could considering the restraints you were under." He helped her sit down for she looked more exhausted than he felt. "You have been injecting yourself with Dexid?"

She looked up at him. "I've been in the OR almost non stop since the attack. No time for rest and practically no relief. I had to give me something to keep me going, to get the job done."

Vinn was sympathetic. "I want you to get some rest."

"My cabin has been trashed." She replied with a smile.

"No excuse. Sleep on my sofa." He motioned to it. "I've used it plenty of times."

If she was going to argue, her fatigue simply wouldn't let her. He helped her over and perhaps not surprisingly, she was out almost instantaneously.

He watched her a moment, how peaceful she looked dressed in the optional uniform skirt. Her black afro had gone gray but she was still quite stunning for a woman in her fifties. Like him, a regular old war horse who didn't know when to quit and gracefully go into the night.

Making sure she was comfortable, he draped his service overcoat, he wasn't sure what it was doing in here, over her and headed out onto the Bridge.

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Aaron Dorel played his role as the stranded survivor quite well. The humans aboard the _Columbia_ had not yet learned of the Humano-Cylon constructs which gave him a reprieve from detention. Technicians were more numerous in the damaged corridors than Marines so his movements were, more or less, unchallenged. Sometimes, a diligent DC tech would warn him that this or that area was too dangerous and he would give the correct responses.

He realized that he would have to help his brethren if they expected to find the _Columbia_ at all. He located the comm relay. Sending a standard message would be picked up on the CIC and probably distorted by the Void anyway. What he needed to do was send a pulse. It would allow for their location to be triangulated and in the end, that is what he wanted.

"What are you doing in here?" Came a voice from behind him. Dorel sighed and released the wires before he could make the adjustments. He turned to see a young Marine who just happened to be patrolling in this area.

"Maintenance."

The Marine was puzzled since Doral was obviously not in uniform. "Let's see some identification."

"Relax." Dorel put on a smile as he turned completely around to face the Marine. He put his hand in his pocket as if to get his ID. "I have it right here." His other hand moved so quickly that the Marine didn't have time to react as Dorel's hand clamped around the man's neck and with a slight twist and the snapping of bone, the Marine was dead.

Dorel stepped out into the corridor to see if there would be any other intrusions but he saw no one. He stepped back inside and began work on the wires. The pulse would be set on such a low frequency that the CIC's instruments were not calibrated to detect it and thus could not prevent it either.

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In Landing Bay Alpha, Jolly watched as the flight deck crew finished up with Green Squadron. Each machine gun was fully loaded but what made the difference was their avionics. The CAG looked into the cockpit of the nearest Viper. He was expecting dials, levers and switches as they gutted these state-of-the-art fighters and turned them retro. There were differences, of course and his frown was noticed by Master Chief Kessler.

"It'll take some getting use to." Kessler had probably been in the service long enough to have serviced the old Mark II. A slim man, bald except for short white hair that seemed to orbit his head along the sides.

"I know what the Cylons are capable of; I just wish the techs had come up with something less radical, like a firewall or something." Jolly looked over at the wall where pictures of Lieutenant Stinger and the rest of Blue Squadron had been posted as a memorial since the Flight Group Ready Room had been damaged.

Kessler chuckled. "Sorry. Trust me, you'll prefer this setup when you're head-to-head with the Toasters and know they can't simply flip your power switch off." He grew serious. A dozen warriors died just that way. Neither spoke for a few centons.

Brie was walking toward them accompanied by three other pilots. "So what now Captain?"

"We're going to Cimtar. If the ion cannon isn't knocked out, it'll be up to us. Maverick, Iceman, Goose, I want the three of you doing recon once we're on the other side."

"In these? I don't know Captain but they're not going to be easy to fly, not with Monotronics. If we do run into Toasters, we could find ourselves pretty decent targets for them." Goose said. None of the warriors had been particularly happy with the refit.

"That's why we use the simulators, get a feel for it because that's just the way its got to be. Blue Squadron isn't with us because their comp got zapped, remember that." Jolly motioned Brie away from the others. "We're on standby to take out the cannon so stick around."

"What has the Old Man said about Sparky? Are we a go for a rescue mission or what?"

Jolly smirked. "Wildcat is missing too." Ortega was not one of the most popular warriors on the ship. "The XO has nixed any idea and the Old Man has so far agreed. I'll bring it up again once we're at the Cimtar Station."

"She can be such a bitch." Brie snapped, referring to their beloved Colonel Athena Adama.

Jolly didn't comment.

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"Twelve centons until jump. So far, there have been no problems with the navcom." Vega had been monitoring it closely.

"Major Objo, how's it going down there?" Athena was on the telecom as anxious faces surrounded her on the CIC.

"_So far, the turbodynes are holding up but if you're religious at all Colonel, I'd start praying. If they don't reach 85,000 ergons, we won't be going anywhere."_

Athena looked over at Vinn. "Keep a close eye on it, Major." She hung up the telecom and looked up at the Dradis console. The Void made long-range scans ineffective.

"It won't be long now." Commented Vinn, attempting to reassure his crew. "What's our weapons status?"

"Seventy percent of our batteries are still off line. DC crews are still working on them. None of the missile launchers are operational." Reported Vega.

"I see." The Commander stood with his arms behind his back. "Inform Jolly that Green Squadron is to be put on standby. They may be our only effective line of defense if we encounter more than an ion cannon when we arrive Cimtar."

The telecom beside Athena signaled.

"_We're losing power. The only thing I can suggest is reducing over all output through out the ship and diverting it for the jump."_

Athena told Vinn who picked up the intercom. "Attention all hands, this is the Commander. We will be diverting nonessential power towards the jump. The Gods willing, we will be jumping in ten centons." He then addressed his XO. "Inform Objo, he can have his extra power."

"Sir, Dradis is picking up multiple CBDR!" A few microns later and Vega added, "It's confirmed. Cylon raiders bearing 241 carom 127."

"Condition One, Lieutenant." Vinn looked at the overhead Dradis console.

"Action stations, action stations. Condition One throughout the ship." Came Vega's voice as the klaxons started.


	10. The Jump to Cimtar

Landing Bay Alpha was filled with activity as the klaxons blared in the background. Jolly looked to Master Chief Kessler. "Tell me you have more than a dozen vipers refitted?"

"We have some of Red and Orange Squadrons…"

"Frak." The CAG whispered. "Okay, have the refitted vipers ready." He scrambled to his own fighter as Brie hung up the telecom.

"It's Cylon raiders."

There was a rather ominous silence as the pilots realized that the few vipers they had ready to fly would be outnumbered if a basestar's full complement of raiders was utilized against them.

"Okay people, let's get a move on. We're the _Columbia's_ first and last line of defense." Jolly said as he sat himself in the cockpit and accepted his helmet from one of the deck techs.

As Jolly's viper was moved to the launch tube, Brie was getting into hers. Maverick, Goose, Iceman, Stretch, Jughead, Neat-Oh, Bones, KaBoom, Lips and ALF were also scrambling, as were a dozen more.

Once in the crimson soup that was the Void, onboard scanners were having a hard time picking up anything beyond a certain range. Colonial transponders indicated the vipers that were nearby and were so indicated on the scanner.

"My scanner's not picking up anything." Grumbled Goose. "And eye balling isn't any better."

"Keep your eyes peeled, they're out here." Answered Jolly. The waiting, however anxious it may have been, was short as the first Cylon contacts appeared on the scanner. "Okay, here we go."

"Sweet motherfraker!" Growled Lt. ALF. "This baby is really pissing me off. Damn monotronic crap."

"It's just like riding an auroch. You grab the reins and hang on!" Laughed Lt. KaBoom, who by his callsign, liked to blow things up.

"Just like the simulators. Hang on to your stick; ease into maneuvers, don't force them. You'll do fine." Jolly instructed.

"Captain! I got multiple Toasters attempting to make a run for the _Columbia_." Reported Flt. Sgt. Neat-Oh, whom was the clean freak in the pilot's barracks.

"Neat-Oh, Stretch and Mad Daggit, intercept the Toasters. The rest of you engage the main force. Keep alive people." Jolly then fired his boasters, as did the others as the two waves of opposing fighters soon met.

For the other three warriors, it was not as easy to intercept, especially flying the refitted Mark VII. They each fired their heavy caliber rounds that tore into some of the raiders of which two were destroyed but the other four seem to be more determined than ever.

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"_Selas, report in. What's your D20?" _Squawked from the dead marine's radio.

Aaron Dorel checked his handy work knowing the pulse was active and that the humans had nothing to detect it. Any centon, raiders would arrive and annihilate this bastion of humanity. However, he would give them an added advantage.

He took out a Solenite explosive charge that he had 'borrowed' from the Armory. Attached to any of the Solium storage tanks and the _Columbia_ would be either severely crippled or destroyed depending on the effects of the fires. Solium, derivative of Tylium, was a necessary fuel but highly volatile.

The klaxons went off and he smiled. His pulse was detected.

"_Selas?"_

Dorel ignored the radio. There would be no response.

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"Got me a Toaster!" Screamed Mad Daggit as he flew through the debris of another destroyed raider. "I think you all owe me a drink at the Officer's Club." He was all smiles. "What's the frak is your problem ALF. She fly's like a charm." Laughter filled the comlink.

"Listen, I wish you all stop calling me ALF. I said my callsign should be Hawkeye." ALF complained, as it was the usual banter in barracks when his callsign was ever addressed.

"What's wrong? You are an Annoying Little Frak!" Mad Daggit continued as he took bead on another raider. "Stretch, Neat-Oh, are you going to let me have all the fun?"

"Enough chatter Mad Daggit." Came Septo, Orange Squadron leader. "Let's not let our Green Squadron brethren think we're a bunch of unsophisticated folk."

"By the Lords of Kobol they are fast. Mad Daggit, Stretch, Neat-Oh, you've got incoming. I'm in pursuit." Reported Goose.

"Felgercarb! I'm hit!" Brie snarled as her viper was riddled along the side.

"Return to the _Columbia_."

"I'm okay, Captain." She answered Jolly not quite as confident in her words as warning lights began to go off.

Jolly could see Brie's viper. "That's an order Flash."

Brie reluctantly veered for the supposed safety of the battlestar. There wasn't nearly enough vipers out but that didn't mean carelessly sacrificing a pilot who was more a target than a help because of a damaged fighter.

Raiders had come up on Mad Daggit's six and he was forced to break off pursuit and attempt to lose his tail. This forced Neat-Oh to also break off in order to help Mad Daggit.

That left Stretch to continue the chase as a lone raider tried to reach the _Columbia_.

"I can't shake them!" Exclaimed Big Daggit. "I thought these motherfrakers were supposed to be as slow as a Testudine!"

"That was thirty years ago." Neat-Oh added. "These guys are not your daddy's Toasters." He managed a target lock on one of the Cylons and unleashed a barrage, cautiously looking at the amount of ammunition so that he didn't run dry out among these sharks. The raider exploded in two as its wings blew away from the point of impact.

It certainly looked like they were getting the drop on these raiders that broke ranks from the main attack force. Others did join but so did vipers as the death ballet between man and machine continued to be played out.

For Mad Daggit, who had just escaped from being blown to bits, found himself yet again in the target sights of a raider. This time, there was no hope of rescue, no magic maneuver. His Number One engine and his tail fin were hit by the opening strafing rounds. As he struggled with the stick, another raider opened up with two .50 cal slugs penetrating the canopy and ripping through his face shield to scramble his cranium. Mad Daggit was killed instantly as further rounds disintegrated his doomed viper.

Stretch heard what happened over the comm but he could not think about it as he closed in for the kill on a raider that had managed to slip through the skirmish line on a direct course for the _Columbia_. He didn't like how the bird was handling and found it not as smooth as it was before the refit. He figured his hands would be covered with blisters just keeping the stick steady. His tactical monitor was showing the elusive raider was almost in the cross hairs.

"There will be time to grieve for our fallen comrades later. Right now we have a job to do." Came the rather stern voice of Jolly over the comm.

"Die you motherfraker!" Stretch snarled as the raider finally was in his sights. He pulled the trigger just as the raider jumped. His slugs continued by momentum into empty space. "Felgercarb! They can fraking jump!" When he saw the raider materialize, it was practically kissing the _Columbia's_ hull when it fired.

Under normal conditions, the _Columbia's_ hull could take anything less than heavy ordinance and this raider did not carry a payload. However, the hull had been weakened during the initial Cylon attack on the Colonies and one in particular section failed miserably.

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The explosion ripped open a twelve-maxim size hole as Aaron Dorel was heading for the Solium tanks. It was a fatal coincidence for the Cylons' plans as the Humano-Cylon was instantly sucked into space with his Solenite bomb in his hand. Emergency bulkheads sealed the damaged compartment before the vacuum could cause even more destruction.

The only Triple A gun that was operational in the target area opened up when the raider was within range, disintegrating it before it could make another run.

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In the CIC, the expected alarms of depressurization was added to the other calamities affecting the command deck. Dradis was showing an alarming number of Cylon contacts which meant a basestar was lurking closeby. If it too ventured into the Void, it would be over as quickly as it began. The navcom was still counting down till the next jump; precious centons that the vipers had to buffer however just one raider had gotten through…

"Deck 18, section 12 has had a hull rupture. Emergency bulkheads in place." Reported Vega.

"How many did we lose?" Vinn gritted his teeth, expecting the worse.

"Only one biosign detected in space."

"Did that raider do what I think it did? They can jump." Athena took a deep breath. "Tell the DC teams we need those batteries up and running ASAP." She ran her fingers through her hair knowing that if raiders had FTL then they were in a more weakened position than they ever could have conceived.

"How big is the breach?" Vinn asked as he looked at the Dradis. "Will it affect our jump?"

"Twelve maxim in size." Responded Vega. "Within safety margins…"

"A scientists' safety margin." The commander scoffed. "It is possible that the hull integrity will collapse due to the natural stresses of FTL as well, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir, that is a possibility."

The officers and crew in CIC knew they were between a rock and a hard place and waited for Vinn's order.

"We continue the jump. Recall the vipers. Have what batteries are operational at the ready once our warriors are within our defense perimeter."

Comm Specialist Nikoli Bellal spoke into his headset. "All vipers, you are ordered to return to the _Columbia_."

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Jolly heard the order. "Okay people, we have our orders; make for the LB stat." He didn't let on to the others that he was grateful for the RTS- return to ship - because it was becoming all to clear that the enemy numbers were going to have a devastating effect on his warriors.

Bones was one of the last to be reduced to space debris when his viper was ripped apart as he was preparing to make his way back. The Cylons were intent on taking them all out. Lips and Jughead had a similar fate. Too many of them, not enough of us.

Iceman was the last to slip into the defensive perimeter when the batteries opened up. Not sufficient to stop the attack completely because of the lack of Triple A that were operational but it did not have to hold them off for long.

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"All surviving vipers are in the bays." Bellal reported.

The _Columbia_ rocked again and the CIC crew had to grab onto something to prevent them from being knocked hard against a bulkhead or deck plating.

Vinn looked at the chronometer. The last centon was now counting down to the few microns left. The ergon level was still stable considering the pounding the ship was under so he grabbed the telecom. "All hands, this is the Commander. Prepare for jump."

All eyes were on the chronometer as it hit 10 microns…9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1

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Lucifer was in his command chamber of his basestar when Six entered. He turned to look at her. He knew why she was here; Basestar 7449's report was due.

"The _Columbia_ has jumped. We are attempting to locate them but…"

"Why do we not have their new coordinates?" He cut her off. As a machine, he did possess anger or frustration. Yet, they were originally created by flawed humans whose personality algorithms were somewhere in his subroutine, buried but not gone.

"The Void's properties have made any search difficult. We have at least 3, 476 possible locations. The network is attempting to narrow that down."

"I see."

"Lucifer, Imperious Leader wants an update on our search for the Battlestar _Columbia_." Informed a gold first centurion.

Lucifer paused a moment, thinking of the millions of variables that could be used as an appropriate response to Barkol's order. "Put him through." He waited until Barkol's image appeared. "Your Eminence."

"_What is the status of your search for the Battlestar Columbia? Has it been destroyed?"_

"Not exactly. It seems the commander of Basestar 7449 has made a gross error in carrying out the order and allowed the battlestar to escape. Had I been able to carry out the order myself, it would have been carried out." Lucifer boasted, as any IL Series Cylon, who was on the short list to succeed Barkol as Imperious Leader, would do.

"_Basestar 7449's commander will be dealt with momentarily. Since you are of the confidence to succeed where he had failed, then it will be your sole task in hunting down the Battlestar Columbia and destroying her."_

Lucifer was, for the few times in his existence, speechless. It took him 4 microns to respond and for a machine, that was an eternity. "Your Eminence, my duties here-."

"_You will be relieved of those duties of course. Spectre will lead the continued eradication of the Colonies of Humanity in your place."_

"Spectre!" It was all Lucifer could do to contain his disapproval. If there was any IL Series Cylon he detested the most, it was self-serving Spectre.

"_My decision is final."_ Snapped the Imperious Leader who was not used to his orders being challenged.

"Though I am certain that I will succeed, hypothetically, if for some reason, the _Columbia_ should elude me…"

"_Attila is in need of a commander though I am told the extreme cold temperatures are not conducive to our circuitry."_

Lucifer did the only thing he could. "By your command."


	11. Declawed

_Cimtar Station_

Aralt Sagremor of the Scorpian Cartel stood in the operations room of his newly acquired station. He looked at his gold chronometer. It was almost time and he knew he'd have just one chance but if he was successful, the Toasters would probably not even notice him and he'd be able to build his criminal empire unscathed. It was a plan that required his undivided attention and only his underlings he could trust were in this room, at this moment.

"Power up the ion cannon." He said, glancing at his watch. The weapon required ten centons to reach full power and while operational, soaked up energy to the point several large generators had to be installed to deal with this. As far as weapons went, this was far more advanced than mere bullets and missiles and for that, he gave the Khressari credit. However, he needed enriched Tylium shipments more often which meant dealing with the scrupulous Ovions on Carillon. The Tylium ore needed to be processed into the volatile Solium fuel, which also cost him more quantums than he was willing to part with.

It was still his only real defense against a major threat and so he waited for what he knew must take place.

"Ion cannon activated. 2,000 ergons and rising." Reported one of his techs.

Sagremor rubbed his hands together as he moved from one monitor to another, finally hovering near the Dradis console. No contacts as yet but that was going to change very soon.

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The Cimtar station was more industrial than commercial. There were no shops or restaurants (if you didn't count the cafeteria). It simply was a repair facility. Its Khressari design did not take into account any particular reason to pamper their clients and the Cartel, having taken it over only recently, had not done any major refurbishments. Many of the decks were machine shops or cargo holds with Khressari script still on signs and touch access computer displays.

Detective Inspector Phelan Hunter and Ensign Runa Rigelian had found themselves in these service decks. Access to the ion cannon control room was simply not possible. The security locks could not be breached. Though Runa was prepared to continue trying, Hunter considered that they were running out of time and needed to take out the source of power instead. Even this was not a cakewalk but down here, only the techs were working and those who had some familiarity with the gangsters running the show now, still thought Hunter was one of them.

Runa had taken off her uniform jacket, on Hunter's request, because a military uniform was more than likely to cause trouble or get her killed. Being from Virgon, she wasn't use to strolling around in a t-shirt but accepted his reasoning, however regretted it because of the higher humidity by all the machine shops located in this section made her t-shirt stick to her like a second skin. It wasn't long before Hunter had tossed his tie and jacket as well. The station's operators did not really care to waste Solium fuel for the comfort of the techs below decks and thus no air conditioning. Power output was always a concern for a station not located on the major space lanes.

"Just for curiosity sake, Ensign, how many times have you participated in a tactical operation?" He asked her as they walked down one of the narrow access corridors.

Runa didn't answer right away. When she did, she tried to sound confident. "This is my first."

He stopped to look at her. "You're the security officer?" He paused. "So fresh out of the Academy that you haven't gotten your hands dirty yet."

"I was a Bridge officer. I was reassigned after the master-at-arms was killed during the Cylon attack." She offered as an explanation.

Hunter didn't say anything and she assumed his opinion of her was not of high regard. She would have done anything to return to her old duties and disappear.

He took out a PDA type device. "The Solium tanks are down this corridor behind a six-metron, reinforced bulkhead."

"I thought we were going to sabotage the power generators?" Runa asked quizzically.

"Hitting the ion cannon's power generators would only make Sagremor switch over to the main generators and there are too many of them scattered around the station. It would be a considerable drain on the rest of the station's systems but he'd still be able to fire the cannon. No, our best bet is to hit the Solium tanks. This will cause emergency systems, like life support, to switch to reserve batteries but not enough power to fire the cannon."

"Solium is highly volatile. If it ignited, half the station - if not all of it - would be vaporized." She was no engineer, but every Colonial knew the dangers.

"I'm well aware of that fact, Ensign. My intent is not to commit suicide." He looked at his chronometer. "We don't have much time. Sagremor would have already ordered the cannon to be powered up." He took a step and half turned to face her. "The Colonies, 12 billion people, all gone?" It sounded so incredible, so horrific, to believe.

"Yes." She replied, attempting to keep the deep emotions from surfacing. It is not an easy task as a single tear ran down her cheek.

"Everyone back on Scorpia…Rachel." He stopped, a long pause as he too understood that what had transpired was not some military offensive by the Cylons but genocide. How many survived, he could not know, that he did was truly a heavy burden to bare. He looked down the corridor. "The Solium tanks are hooked to power conduits which feed directly to the generators. There are dozens of auxiliary conduits throughout the place as a redundancy but only one main conduit. As I said, I wasn't going to commit suicide."

Runa followed him down the corridor. The lighting was dim, to conserve power, and it added to the claustrophobic sensation as overhead pipes at times forced them to lower their heads.

The door ahead had a warning in Khressari script but the accompanied universal symbol for danger was hard to ignore. No guards were present, not unexpected since Sagremor lacked any significant presence, at least in numbers to fully sweep the station with armed thugs.

There was an interactive keypad but Hunter just tapped in the code and the door hissed open. Inside were more warnings including a sign for explosive. All these were clearly visible in bright, impossible not to see, colors. Another sign with the safety codes was also impossible to miss, as were emergency overrides. Four large cylindrical tanks took up much of the space.

"Hard to believe we use this stuff as fuel. There's got to be something, a crystal of some kind that could do the job without the high risks." Hunter put his hand on one of the tanks, extremely cold to the touch.

"What if it doesn't go like you assume it will?" Runa glanced at the exit occasionally, to make sure they had no company. "Any mistake and we'll be -."

"Vaporized. Yes, I think you said that already but I might be mistaken." He smiled as he looked at the bank of monitors. "They are almost at optimum power." He looked over at the power conduit than the monitors again. ".03 megons should be enough." Hunter pulled a strip of Solenite from his jacket.

She simply watched in amazement as if watching an episode of Agent X3 on the vidcom. Indeed, he looked the part of a Colonial Fleet Intelligence operative than a copper.

He placed the Solenite on the power conduit. From another pocket, he took out an igniter. She watched as he seem to be analyzing the situation. "Once the conduit goes, so will main power. Your people will be able to replace this conduit and get power back online but until then, Sagremor will be deaf, blind and toothless."

Runa saw movement near the exit. One of the techs had seen them and being unarmed, dashed out into the corridor for the nearest telecom. She left Hunter and chased after the guy.

She didn't want to shoot him if she could help it but was aware that there may be little choice. If the tech notified Sagremor, it could endanger the _Columbia_. The only thing the tech did not take into account was that Runa was in great shape and running even in these confined spaces did not slow her down. She remembered where the nearest telecom was so she had mere microns to take him out.

The distance between them had narrowed, mostly because the tech constantly turned his head to see how far behind she was. To intent on her and not ahead, he tripped. He did get up but she knocked him back to the deck and grabbing his hair, shoved his head hard into the deck. The tech was out cold.

The ensign decided to check ahead, just in case they had more company but not so far that she couldn't render Hunter assistance if needed. Depending on how one interpreted it, there was no one else. She backtracked to the room.

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In the Operations Room, several levels above, Sagremor was impatiently waiting for the inevitable; a flash of light followed by the appearance of the crippled battlestar. A first strike and he could render his problem solved. It never occurred to him that the human species had been dwindled to just a few hundred thousand and that killing the _Columbia's_ crew wouldn't help in the repopulation effort. He was, and always would be, a gangster bent on his own self-interest.

"I've got something on the security cam." Reported one of his underlings at a bank of computers screens. "It looks like Hunter with that dame from the _Columbia_…"

Sagremor was soon hovering over the man. "Where are they?" His voice was but a growl.

"It's the Solium tank room."

"What! Zoom in; I want to see what they're doing!" Sagremor looked over at one of his thugs. "Send some men down there. I don't care about the girl but bring Hunter to me."

The magnified image on the screen revealed Hunter attaching his Solenite explosive to the power conduit.

"Frak!" The crimelord exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the console.

"They won't arrive in time to stop him." Reported the tech. "If that conduit is destroyed, we will be on reserve power only, not enough for the ion cannon. If the tanks ignite, the whole station could go. I suggest we evacuate-."

Sagremor slammed his fist on the console again. "Is there any way to stop the detonation?"

"Not enough time." The tech had zoomed in on the Solenite explosive. "All we can do is try to minimize the effects. Hopefully the Solium tanks won't get damaged."

Sagremor slammed the man's head into the console then holding his hair, pulled him back, blood dripping from a broken nose. "I don't think so. Seal the bulkheads for that room. If Hunter wants to play hero then let him by a martyr for the cause."

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With the bomb in place, Hunter motioned with his head for the door but before Runa could take a step for it, a hissing followed by a clang was heard. Having served on ships, she knew the sound instantly and rushing over to the door, found it confirmed.

"We're sealed in!" She shouted tugging on the door but the red light above it was simply added proof.

Hunter rubbed his chin as he considered their limited options. He could defuse his bomb but then the _Columbia_ would be exposed to the ion cannon's might. If he allowed it to explode, they could be ripped to shreds.

"_Hunter."_ Came Sagremor's voice over the intercom. _"Defuse your bomb or else you and your girlfriend will die with it. Hardly a perfect outcome for whatever traitorous notions your fraking mind was thinking." _His words echoed through the room.

"You can't." Hissed Runa, worried about her shipmates.

Hunter looked around the room. There was no shelter from the explosion. The tanks should take the impact if they were built to standards but the shrapnel would cut them to ribbons. Think, he told himself, can't let Sagremor get away with this. His eyes fell on a ventilation shaft.

"Up there, hurry!" He pointed to the shaft.

Runa slung the SMG over her shoulder and attempted to remove the cover. It didn't budge. She saw a pipe, grabbed it and began prying it. With some elbow grease, the cover popped off. She had a penlight attached to her belt and she illuminated the shaft. Tight, confining spaces…"Ready." She said with some measure of reservation.

"Start crawling. We'll have about thirty microns before it detonates. I can't put it any longer in case Sagremor has his goons on the other side of that door just waiting to defuse it." When he saw only her boots poking out of the shaft, he primed the igniter. Hunter ran for the shaft and once inside yelled at Runa. "Go, go, go!"

The explosion was intense, tearing the power conduit apart and sending fragments to scatter around the room. He shoved her toward an intersecting shaft, just avoiding the flash flames and heat that came through.

They both looked at each other before he spoke. "The tanks held."

"No thanks to you. How much Solenite did you use?"

"Enough." He snapped. "Keep moving."

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In the Operations Room, It suddenly went dark as monitors, the lights and practically everything else shut down. Emergency lighting did come on a few microns later but that was about it. There were collective sighs of relief that the Solium tanks must had held since the station itself was not obliterated.

"Main power is down, though we still have life support." Reported one of his techs.

"What about the ion cannon!" Sagremor yelled, clenching his fists into sizable hammers.

"Without main power, we won't have sufficient ergons to bring it to operational status."

"What if we use every bit of power in this place, will we have enough then?" He was grasping at straws and he knew it.

"No. The batteries don't have the ergons." The tech looked at the black monitors. The station had enough generators should some fail but that didn't take into account major power failure.

"Frak. At least tell me that Hunter is dead!"

"Internal sensors are offline." The tech quickly added, "But if he was in that room, he'd be dead."

"Have the conduit repaired immediately."

"There was no spare in inventory and we simply don't have the time to repair from scratch if we want to go on the offensive when the battlestar arrives."

"We're a repair facility and we don't have a spare conduit! What fraking nonsense is that? Start repairs anyway. Where is Deric?" Sagremor asked about his lieutenant.

"We haven't heard from him since he was escorting the _Columbia_ officers."

"They're here!" Shouted one of the thugs, looking out the view port into space, saw the _Columbia_ coming out of jump.

"Initiate self destruct." Sagremor commanded. "If they want the station so badly…"

There was an ominous sense of doom among Sagremor's lackeys and many of them just wanted to escape rather than spend the rest of their natural lives incarcerated or blown to bits. Those in the Operations Room could not even attempt to flee, not if they wanted to survive the sire's wraith.

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Hunter and Runa felt the rumble as well but their position was far more perilous than those in Ops. Intense heat traveled through the vents and to them, it felt like they were in an oven but the sensation would get a lot worse if they stayed.

Seeing a vent, Hunter kicked it open and motioned for her to crawl out first then him. There was a drop to the floor into a partially darken room filled with an assortment of crates. He had scrapped his arm in the fall but she had escaped unscathed. Runa had her flashlight out to give a better illumination.

"Since we're still here, I guess the Solium tanks held up." He said, feeling his wounded arm and wincing as he did so. "We best get to the operations room."

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Sagremor watched in utter frustration as the _Columbia_ slowly approached; a pair of vipers whizzing around her. "Frak." He hissed. His intentions were never honorable for if he had succeeded, it would simply been purely business. Now, the thought of dozens of marines flooding the docking ports made him realize what was at stake, his own survival.

He was about to head out one of the exits that lead to the landing bay when Hunter and Runa appeared, weapons trained on him and those unlucky to still be there.

"What's your hurry, Sagremor? Take a seat." Hunter motioned with the muzzle of his SMG to a chair.

"Drop the guns!" Runa ordered the three thugs that had attempted to reach for their pistols. They complied, grumbling and cursing.

"What the frak is this, Hunter? Selling us out to save your own skin?" Sagremor then smiled. "Wanting to take over the Cartel yourself…"

"Draken and the other bosses are dead. There isn't a Cartel anymore to take over or has it not gotten through your thick skull that the Colonies are gone." Snarled Hunter. "I'm with the Scorpian PD you stupid frak!"

"A fraking copper." Sagremor laughed. "I suppose I should have known. Your superiors are dead too, you need not have played the hero to this bitch." He motioned his head to Runa. "There is still profit to be made, regardless of whether Scorpia and the other Colonies exist or not and you could have gotten a piece of that action." He glared. "You going to arrest me, is that it? No judges, no courts; what did you have in mind?"

"Take out your gun nice and slow, Sagremor?" Hunter ordered, keeping his SMG trained solely on the crime boss.

"You killed Deric didn't you?" Sagremor shook his head as he pulled out his pistol and dropped it to the floor.

"The rest of you, on your knees, hands behind your heads!" Ordered Runa as she motioned her own weapon on the thugs and techs left in the room. "Move!"

The techs left their consoles and did as they were told. One of the thugs went for his back up piece. Runa saw it out of the corner of her eye and fired a short burst, taking him down. The other thugs soon obeyed her command and everyone but Sagremor was on their knees.

"You too. On your knees, hands behind your head." Hunter growled at Sagremor who stood definitely before slowly sinking to his knees.

Runa took a chance and glanced out the windows behind her. The _Columbia_ loomed large as two raptors, filled with Marines, and escorted by vipers headed toward the station. Her radio chirped to life.

"_What's your status, Ensign?"_

"We have control of Ops and have Sagremor in custody. Main power is out, Sir. Suggest sending an engineering team to replace the main conduit." Runa replied into her radio.

"I'd suggest one of your techs as well." Sagremor sneered. "Self destruct sequence has been initiated. Soon we'll be nothing but bits and pieces."

"Check it out." Hunter ordered the ensign, as he watched the prisoners.

Runa went over to the consoles and soon saw one counting down. "Lords of Kobol. He's telling the truth. Five centons."

Hunter approached Sagremor and pressed the barrel of his SMG into the kneeling man's head. "Shut it down!"

"After ten microns, it will be impossible."

"In one micron, your head will be splattered all over this deck!"

"I may be agreeable to help under certain conditions." The crime boss stated, ignoring the threat of death imposed upon him. "Complete immunity for my crimes."

"Not my call."

"Then tell Commander Vinn. If he wants to repair his battlestar in an intact station, he'll agree. If not, we're all dead in less than ten centons."

Hunter grabbed a hold of Sagremor's sleeve, forced him to his feet, and shoved him to the console. "Deactivate it or I swear to Aries, I'll fraking kill you now."

"Police brutality, tsk, tsk. I told you my demands. You have less than nine centons now."

"Inspector?" Runa asked, waiting to know what to do, her voice betraying her anxiety.

"Frak! Tell the Commander." Hunter finally said.

Runa passed on the message, looking down at the chronometer counting down the time to oblivion.

It seemed like yahrens had passed but she suspected that Vinn was discussing his options with his key officers. Runa knew there wasn't any, not in the time available. They needed the station.

"_Tell Mr. Sagremor, he'll get his immunity if he deactivates the destruct sequence and all his men disarm." _Vinn finally replied.

Sagremor didn't answer and Hunter forced his weapon hard into the gangster's back, forcing him to lean over the console. It must have been agreeable for the gangster tapped commands into the interface and the chronometer stopped then came up DESTRUCT SEQUENCE DEACTIVATED.


	12. Kronus

**Cimtar Station**

Commander James Vinn, followed by a squad of Marines, entered the Operations Center. What he saw was Sagremor seated in a chair with Hunter hovering over him with a SMG. Runa was watching the unarmed gunmen that had been forced to huddle together, hands on their heads.

He sighed and walked over to Sagremor. The gangster, however spoke first.

"You promised me clemency. I expect you to honor it." His tone did not portray a beaten man but one who still believed was controlling the game. "And tell this copper to get that gun out of my face." His eyes looked up at Hunter for all of a moment before returning to gaze upon the commander.

"You tried to destroy my ship and in a time of war, that's treason punishable by death. Only the president can give you a pardon for treason and as you can see, Adar isn't here."

"Why you-."

"Settle down." Hunter shoved the muzzle of his weapon into Sagremor's developed pecs.

Behind them, entered the red-bearded Chief Engineer Objo who immediately went over to one of the consoles. He brought up the inventory and as he waited, glanced around under the red glow of emergency lighting. "I suppose the main power conduit will be the first thing needing fixing." He glanced over at Hunter then sighed. "Frak." He cursed under his breath. "As I expected, Commander. They don't have a power converter."

Vinn turned to Sagremor who only shrugged at first but seeing an opportunity to ingratiate himself, soon spoke up. "I might be able to find a power converter if the terms were beneficial."

"Don't bother." Objo scoffed, shaking his head at the gangster's audacity. "These power converters can only be found on one type of ship."

"Battlestars." Vinn responded as he rubbed his own snow-white beard. "Any chance another model would work?"

Objo shook his head. "It has to be a battlestar power converter and I'm telling you now; we won't be making any more jumps unless I can get my hands on one."

"I see." The commander said as he took a vacant chair near Sagremor. "Anything else?"

"I would have to study their inventory but much of what I'll need, if not here, can come from non-military sources." Objo then addressed Sagremor directly. "How many workers do you have on this station?"

Sagremor didn't answer so Hunter gave him incentive by pressing the muzzle of his SMG into his side again. "For a project of this size, I'd need a whole lot more. That'll cost you money but then you could try recruiting yourself but that'll only draw attention and bring out the Toasters." He smirked. "Not to mention parts…It looks like you need me after all, Commander."

Vinn didn't respond and instead joined Objo. "Well Major, tell me how we can replicate this converter or at least fix ours to some degree."

"I hate to be harping on this, Sir but we can't clone this baby even if I wanted to. It has to be a battlestar converter, period. I suppose we could get one from the Scorpian Shipyards if it is still in one piece."

Both men looked at each other, knowing full well what that would mean.

"Giles and Ortega never returned from their recon mission but I can assume the Cylon forces at the Colonies are particularly massive."

"Even so, that's probably the only location for a very critical part. Without it, at sublight speeds, it'll take us 20 yahrens just to reach the Colonies." Objo paused. "I'm a patient man but even I am not that patient."

Vinn clenched his hands together. "I'll keep it under advisement." He finally said. "Right now, I need you to get main power back on line."

Objo nodded, willing to let the previous topic sit for now and with a few engineers he brought over with him, proceeded to begin repairs.

"Ensign, I want you to secure this station. I won't berth the _Columbia_ until I have your assurances."

Runa also nodded but under the commander's gaze, felt the burden of what was asked. She motioned to Sergeant Webb, who as senior NCO, had become, ultimately, the most significant person to her job. His experience outweighed hers by yahrens. If he disliked taking orders from this rookie, he didn't display it, at least in her presence.

"Even if you get your ship repaired Commander, what then?" Asked Sagremor. "By what you're telling me, one lone battlestar is not going to do a damn thing to change the outcome of this war, as short lived as it was."

"We're not dead yet, Mr. Sagremor." Vinn answered as he walked over to the windows where he had a rather depressing view of his wounded ship, her battle scars so clearly seen, it was a wonder that she was still around at all. The only life seem to be the Raptors and Vipers moving about her, like skreeters to a bova. "Just a flesh wound…" He whispered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Virgon**

Giles was lying in the back of the car as Deitra checked his dressing and gave him her only morph shot from her personal med kit.

"He needs to see a doc in a bad way." She said.

They had stopped in a secluded area where debris offered some cover. The hospital that had been their original destination had been gutted by fire and a small clinic, Ortega had remembered, was ransacked and looted. They were low on anti-rad meds, little alone much needed medical supplies.

"You might have noticed that the city has changed a little since I was here last." He said rather harshly. "Been avoiding Toasters but it's only a matter of time."

The sound of a raider soaring past overhead made them both look out the dirty and cracked windshield. It was soon lost among the billowing black smoke and deserted skyscrapers.

"What I wouldn't do for some Ambrosia right now…" Ortega commented, as he looked skyward to see if there were more raiders lurking.

"You have your emergency beacon?" She asked, having played medic since they got in the car.

"The only response would be from the Toasters. The Fleet, well it doesn't look all that good up there." The memory of seeing derelict Colonial warships or their debris littering the home system made him shudder. Would even the _Columbia_ risk looking for them in what was - within mere centares - behind enemy lines.

He heard something and looked outside again, assuming it was another raider but it was closer to the ground. He was prepared to press the accelerator in a last desperate act to avoid capture or death. What appeared in his rear view mirror was a spinner.

A spinner was a vehicle that could drive on the ground like conventional cars or hover at 312 maxim.

Ortega turned to look at Deitra but did not say anything as he got out of the car. Toasters, he reasoned, didn't drive spinners. He began waving his arms in an attempt to be noticed by the pilot and figured he looked like a raving lunatic.

He assumed they hadn't been spotted until the spinner banked toward them, hovering not to far away; the dark windshield prevented the pilot being seen. It landed and an older man carrying a shotgun, followed by two others emerged.

"A warrior." The man with the shotgun said. There was an obvious sign of respect in how he said it, usually from someone whose worn the uniform. His companions were not as trusting, guns still at the ready. They had been fooled by humano-Cylons before and friends had paid the ultimate price for it.

Ortega had been fooled as well and a great uneasiness began to swell between the groups. "I'm with the Colonial Fleet." He finally said.

The old man turned to one of his companions. "Put down your gun, Charka."

Charka was hesitant. "They could be Toasters…"

Deitra exited the car to see the drama unfolding. When her eyes fell on the old man, she gasped. "Lords of Kobol…David Kronus."

Ortega didn't look at her as he asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Commander David Kronus." She looked surprised that the other warrior had no recollection. "He commanded the Fourth Fleet at the Battle of Cosmora Archipelago during the last war. Took out three Cylon basestars." When Ortega did not say anything, she continued. "609 Virginis."

"I know when it was." He snapped. "Shouldn't he be dead by now?"

Kronus replied with a wry smile. "I'm still breathing. Sorry to disappoint you."

"What are we doing? They could be Cylons!" Charka aimed his gun, ready to fire. "We've seen what they are capable of."

Kronus placed his hand on the barrel of Charka's gun and pushed it toward the ground. "Yes we have." The old man's expression was grim.

"We have seen these androids." Ortega commented.

"They are more sophisticated than androids." Kronus' words were barely above a whisper.

"Listen, I'm Lieutenant Gedrin, not some fraking Cylon!" Deitra exclaimed out of frustration. "We have a wounded man in the car and I'm sure you'd agree that being out in the open like this is fraking crazy."

Kronus motioned for the other man with him to check it out. He looked through the window, nodding confirmation.

"Help Damon take the wounded man aboard." Ordered the elderly commander. On seeing Charka being rather insolent, added. "We can continue this at the compound."

Charka cursed under his breath as he made his way to the car and assisted Damon in carrying Giles over to the spinner.

Kronus motioned the other warrior to get aboard as well. Deitra noticed that the usually high tech spinner controls were reduced to dozens of wires hooked to an outdated flight computer.

The commander noticed her surprise. "I've been fighting Cylons before you were born, Lieutenant. Everyone please buckle in. Damon, see to the wounded. Charka, get us home."

The spinner lifted off the ground and sped off toward the snow peaked mountains in the distance.

'How did you find us?" Ortega asked, glancing out the darkened window at the pulverized city slipping pass.

"Infrared. We've attempted to find as many survivors as we could…" Kronus drifted off.

"We should head for the Colonial forces base near Artemis. See what the situation is."

Kronus did not answer Ortega but Charka did. "The base was destroyed. The Toasters have been using it as a deployment point."

"The marines' barracks?" The flight sergeant continued but with no reply this time, gathered what happened.

The veteran commander took notice of their different ship badges. "I take it the situation up there is not all that different than down here?"

Neither Ortega nor Deitra answered him and it got uncomfortably quiet in the cramped confines of the spinner. The view outside the tinted windows did not lift spirits as distant plumes of smoke lifting above nearby cities covered the horizon.

"How could this happen!" Charka exclaimed, his eyes ahead as he piloted the craft. "Where was our great fleet when the Toasters came? Asleep, to lazy to fight…our tax cubits at work."

"That is enough Charka!" Kronus' commanding tone appeared to silence his outspoken companion but even Damon had accusing eyes for the warriors.

Little else was said as the spinner moved away from the zone of destruction and toward the towering mountains. It appeared to be snowing but that was simply nuclear fallout, making much of the plateau near the city radiated. They were going beyond this. A few towns, within the fallout zone, were macabre…Untouched, yet not one person to be seen.

Their destination was a compound composed of one modestly sized building and at least four others amongst the white snow and slightly beyond, the majestic peaks.

"We're here." Kronus finally said and left his seat to pass Ortega and Deitra parkas. "You'll be needing these."

"What is this place?" Asked Ortega as he slipped on the parka.

"My home." The commander didn't elaborate as he returned to his seat for the landing.

As they exited, Kronus ordered that Giles be taken to the doctor at once. Again, his tone was such that he expected no dissension. However, those he commanded did not carry themselves like warriors.

A young dark-haired woman had met them. She looked suspiciously at Ortega and Deitra as she addressed Kronus. "We found another ten survivors in Artemis."

"Good, good." Kronus turned to the warriors. "Aurora Sykes. My much needed right hand." He then introduced Ortega and Deitra to her.

"What is President Adar planning to do?" Aurora asked, her arms crossed, seeming oblivious to the chill that Ortega felt, even with wearing the parka.

Deitra hadn't heard anything, having crashed on Virgon but Ortega did. He sighed at first. "Caprica and Picon were also attacked. I don't know about the other colonies but the extent of Cylon forces in the system…I expect much the same."

Aurora looked down at her feet and then abruptly turned and walked back toward the compound.

"We best get inside." Kronus ushered his guests toward the compound as well. What was surprising was that upon entering, they took stairs leading downward at a 45-degree angle; into the rock itself. This cave, for lack of a better word, was illuminated at intervals with several 'rooms' carved out.

In these rooms were men, women and children. Grief and fear were also occupants. The sudden Cylon attack had destroyed their lives forever.

As they passed, some of these people did gaze upon them but with any lack of hope materializing in their expressions. The invasion had been so overwhelming that little had faith in the Defense Force to be able to mount a credible counter-offensive. Seeing warriors didn't necessarily heighten their spirits.

"What is this place?" Asked Deitra.

"It had been used by a smuggler." Kronus explained. "There are ore in these walls that make scanning nearly impossible. Best place to hide, really." It was obvious that the old First War veteran disliked hiding.

"Eventually the Toasters will move out…" The Atlantia lieutenant added.

"I assume as much but for now, these people need sanctuary."

"We need to get back to the _Columbia_." Ortega commented. "Do you know of any bases, outposts that survived?"

Kronus scoffed. "The Cylons nuked us, Sergeant. There isn't an operational base on the entire planet. I heard Adar had given an unconditional surrender. I can only assume our enemy didn't accept it."

"Anybody from the Defense Force here?" Continued a frustrated Ortega.

The commander shook his head. "Only scared civilians."

The flight sergeant scowled. He wanted desperately to return to the _Columbia_ and these people were not going to be of any help unless they had a spacecraft hidden in these tunnels.

As they were walking, Ortega stopped upon seeing something in one of the rooms. He took it upon himself to investigate, forcing the others to back track to him.

Inside was a white-haired man analyzing a dismantled Toaster, the bullet hold in the head being the obvious sign of termination.

"What the Hades…" Was all the noncom warrior could say.

"Let me introduce you to Dr. Bastian Wilker." Kronus smiled. "Our resident scientist."

Wilker sighed at the intrusion but was respectful enough not to show his displeasure in front of his benefactor.

'The first thing you will notice is that they don't look anything like Model 0005." Wilker explained, holding out a book with the image of the old Cylon centurion. "Except for the visual sensor…The red eye." He lifted an amputated arm. "They don't have to carry their weapon, as previously programmed…Assault rifles with bayonets or the swords, though I don't quite understand why they needed swords…Anyway they were ingeniously reconfigured, after all they are machines, so that they have built in rapid fire guns. Of course, they have no muscle but theses hydraulics allows them to react faster and move faster. Impressive…" He noticed that the three with him did not share his enthusiasm and quickly lost his smile. "With all their upgrades, they still have a basic processor for a brain, not much different than the munitions factories were making a half a century ago. They are lethal killing machines but are not sentient as we would define it."

"Anyway to kill it?" Ortega leaned over the Cylon. "Other than a bullet to the head?"

"Their frame is not bulletproof but they can withstand quite a few rounds before being incapacitated. Unlike ourselves." Wilker put the arm back on the table.

"Why are they so intent on destroying us?" Whispered Deitra.

"Felgercarb!" Ortega pulled out his sidearm. "We cap every one of those motherfrakers and end this!"

Kronus sighed. "My first concern is these people."

"You fought them in the last war, Commander. I thought that you of all people would want to get back at them." Ortega holstered his pistol but he was still angry, not liking the idea of doing nothing.

"Yes, I fought them, got the Gold Cluster for my efforts but it doesn't change the reality of the here and now. The situation is different. The Defense Force forgot what the enemy was capable of and we suffered for it. You want to go back to Spica City and shoot some Cylons, go ahead. There will be a hundred, a thousand to replace them and we'll end up finding your corpse. You'd have died the hero, maybe get your own Gold Cluster if there is anyone left to present it." The old commander was more than frustrated. He had heard this argument before, from inexperienced civilians who thought putting a gun in their hands made them instant warriors. Many died.

"We can't sit idly by if the Toasters are intent on killing us off as a species." Deitra was still looking at the centurion.

"We retreat and regroup. It is the logical course of action. Fighting, even for revenge, will lead to untold casualties and for nothing. No, we must catch our breath." Kronus looked at a map of Virgon that had been taped to a cabinet. On it, was the number of survivors found at various locations.

"You can't stay here." Deitra finally looked away from the Cylon. "They will come here and all these people you care so much about will be massacred."

"And where would you have me take them? Back to the cities? If I could get them off Virgon, I would but I am no magician, Lieutenant. I must deal with facts of what is, not what I'd like it to be. You best get use to that."

"What if you could get them off Virgon?" Ortega sat in a chair, regardless of the presence of officers.

Kronus chuckled. "The spaceport is crawling with Cylons and my spinner doesn't ascend into the heavens. This is the best place to be."

"What are your warrior friends trying to do? Have us commit suicide?" Another, younger man, who, judging by his clothes, came from wealth had strolled in.

"Olin Karibdis." Kronus then introduced the man to the others.

"Karibdis? As in Karibdis Starlines?" Deitra ignored the obvious arrogance of the newcomer, who even in this Holocaust, behaved as if he was in his private club or boardroom.

"The one and the same, my dear." It went with his ego to be recognized. "I was _Colonial Finances'_ Man of the Year."

"Sorry, never saw it. You don't use the facilities at the spaceport to service your ships…The Karibdis Comosdrome." She continued with a smile.

"At Panna, or thereabouts." Added Ortega, now intrigued.

"You think you could reach Panna? Hasn't our good commander filled you in? There are many Cylons between here and there that would gladly kill us." Karibdis snorted. "If this is the military's thinking, no wonder we lost."

Ortega jumped at him and would have brought down his fists many times if not for the intervention of Deitra who restrained him. "Let it go!" She exclaimed. "Sergeant." Adding his rank to make it clear that it was an order not a suggestion.

"The Cylons may have already infiltrated the cosmodrome." Kronus finally spoke. "You couldn't bring it here to pick up the people, they would have to go to it. I don't have enough spinners for that and if we failed, you would jeopardize these people's lives. We are still safer here."

"If we don't try, the Cylons will consolidate their hold and we'll never get off this planet. At least, I'd like to try." The red-haired lieutenant crossed her arms in defiance.

"I agree with the Lieutenant." Now Aurora graced their presence. "I received word of massacres among the survivors in Fecioara." She paused. "The Cylons killed everyone, even those who surrendered."

Fecioara was a remote city of less than 30,000. Hardly a hub of major activity yet it was not spared.

"They have been spotted in the Bakin Valley as well." She added. The valley was even more sparsely populated.

"Let us take a look and we can go from there." Deitra knew how risky it was but the Cylons were not giving them much of a choice. It was not 'if' but 'when' they would be discovered. The Cylons wouldn't have to send centurions, a lone raider could take out the compound and they would be defenseless to stop it.

Kronus looked back at the map, then Aurora and finally Deitra. He simply nodded.

Deitra motioned for Ortega but before leaving the room, spoke to Wilker. "Put the Toaster back together."

"Why? I mean, it certainly isn't going to work, I'm sorry to say it's a bit more complicated than that."

"I don't need it up and running. As long as that eye goes back and forth is fine by me." She then left with the flight sergeant. In the hall, Ortega asked her what that was about.

"Not sure but I'd like to keep my options open." She replied as they headed outside to one of the few spinners.


	13. Karibdis Paradise

**Virgon**

Deitra and Ortega had taken a longer time to transverse the distance between Kronus' compound and the city of Panna, even by spinner. They were also reduced by the craft's monotronic computer, easily dated by forty-odd years.

Panna, like all the urban areas of this colony, had suffered from orbital bombardment. Buildings still stood against the savagery of the times but people were noticeably absent. Another ghost town where the only moving objects were machine soldiers doing a sweep for any residue of humanity.

Avoiding Cylon patrols took patience, more than Ortega had but he was not the ranking officer. Deitra made it abundantly clear on the way that she would be calling the shots. He disliked it but at the moment only grumbled. Whether he would comply with her orders would only be known once they were on site.

Karibdis Cosmodrome was located north of the city, in an area the locals often simply called Karibdisville because his corporation invested heavily in the area. Many of Panna's residents were employed in some fashion to Karibdis's corporate empire.

The warriors used binoculars and a scanner – passive scans so as not to be detected, to recon the sprawling facility. A starliner was still smoldering from a direct hit and at least one heavy Cylon raider was visible. Centurions were not seen but both assumed that the heavy raider meant at least some.

Ortega was willing to get closer, check on the huge hangers and see if any starliner was serviceable. Deitra grabbed a hold of him. "Hold it."

He was clearly annoyed until he saw the Toasters for himself, marching in formation, much like their human counterparts. "Look at those frakers. Think they're fraking marines the way they carry on."

"History lesson, Wildcat, we designed them to be soldiers so that we could have bloodless wars against one another."

Ortega scoffed. "Who's fraking idea was that?"

She rolled her eyes. Flipping through the transvid channels one uneventful evening, she had come across one of those old documentaries about the early Cylons. That they developed sentience and began writing their own programming, resulting in the first war was never fully explained and until now, she had never gave it much thought. Seeing the new, improved centurions, brought that curiosity to the surface, if only to kick which ever scientist designed them, in the ass.

"We should be taking a jumper and rendezvousing with the _Columbia_." Wildcat remarked after a moment of silence. Her only response was a glare. He continued. "Even if by chance we got all those people out here and got us a starliner that could take them, how long would we last? No armaments in the thick of the enemy? We'd be a shooting star before we hit the stratosphere."

"So your plan would be to sacrifice them to save your own ass, am I hearing you correctly, Sergeant?" Her tone betrayed her disgust.

"You'd have to be as delusional as that old man back at the compound to think we could pull this off. Just look at the Toasters. The Gods only know how many are down there and what kind of rein enforcements they could expect if we even try to take them on." He sighed. "Look, we get a jumper, get back to the _Columbia_ and inform the Commander."

"You heard Aurora. The Cylons will have this entire planet under their thumb in a matter of days. The sanctuary they have is an illusion, for now. They can't stay and the longer they remain, the tighter the noose and soon no one will be able to leave. So, as the officer here, I say we help them. If you want to be a selfish prick, do it on your own time." She looked through the binoculars and noticed that one of the centurions had stopped and was looking in their direction. She turned to Ortega to see that the scanner was still active. Looking back, the centurion's attention was still fixated on their general position.

She snatched the scanner from his hands and turned it off then pulled on Ortega's collar to pull him away from the edge of the rise, where they were spying on the facility.

"What the hell-."

"One of the Cylons must have detected your scans. We got to get moving." She hissed under her breath.

He unholstered his Clamshell, knowing full well that its three spare clips were not anywhere adequate to take on a dozen or more Cylons. Each clip held just six high-powered rounds. Ortega peeked over the edge. The curious Cylon was still remained focused on them and was now joined by a First Centurion, the gold-plated models. "Something is up."

"Like I said, we need to move. We'll come around to the south side-."

Ortega cut her off. "Shouldn't we just get back to the compound. This place is to well guarded for anything short of suicide."

"Just a moment ago, you wanted to sacrifice those back in the compound now you want to join them. Make up your fraking mind, Sergeant because I need you focused." Deitra shot back, her own pistol in her hand. She already started heading toward the south side of the facility which offered cover.

He looked back at the spinner. Their attempt to conceal it with brush and whatever they could find might not be enough if the Cylons took a closer look. In any event, there was little he could do about it now and proceeded to follow the lieutenant, choosing a few profanities that mirrored his mood.

It first appeared as a black dot in the sky, then as it got closer, it became more distinctive. A raider circled the area. The warriors were safely out of view and not in the scanning area but the spinner was. It fired a single missile which completely destroyed the craft. Once it completed, the raider soared back toward the northern sky and then made a steep incline and disappeared.

Ortega had watched what happened and was mad as hell. They were now stuck in Panna, a town crawling with Cylons. He only hoped there was something here that was worth all this trouble.

They entered one of the buildings by way of a rear door. It required a key card but Deitra simply played with some wires until the door unlocked. Inside was nearly dark except for some windows that casted rays of sunlight to pepper the interior. The building was massive in scale and contained two starliners. Only one did not have its hull plating removed here and there for maintenance. It meant nothing, only that the other starliner had not yet been serviced or had a different set of problems.

"Look at the size of these things." Quipped Wildcat. "Do you still think that we could get one of these off the ground before getting blown to bits like the spinner outside?"

The starliner itself was a little more than an eighth of the size of a classic type battlestar. Streamlined and FTL capable, it could carry up to a thousand passengers and would be more than enough for what they intended. The problem, as Ortega had pointed out, was getting it off the ground, if indeed it was serviceable. Sunlight had illuminated the starliner's name, _Karibdis Paradise._

"Let's take a look inside." She whispered, holding her Clamshell at the ready, always vigilant for the enemy. He simply followed, saying 'frak' numerous times under his breath. As far as he was concerned, all it needed was a bull's eye painted on its hull.

The service hatch was open and they slowly boarded the vessel. Flashlights were switched on when the interior was nearly in complete darkness. First class section was opulent beyond belief. Ortega leaned over the bar as he picked out a bottle of Ambrosia, one of many. It was an acquired taste since it cost more cubit than he was willing to part with. He panned his flashlight over the bar's inventory and let out a low whistle.

Deitra only glared at him and kept moving. She avoided the ascensior because of lack of power, and took the emergency stairs instead. She stepped out onto the Bridge and soon realized though it was not as complex as a battlestar's, it still required more personnel than just the two of them. She picked up a clipboard which had a report that had required a signature. The ship was to leave in three days for a run to Caprica, Scorpia and Canceron before returning back here. It never would complete its tour.

She went over to a console and turned on the auxiliary lighting. For a moment, Ortega's pessimism took hold of her. How could they hope to fly her out, get beyond the patrolling raiders and the basestars' ordinance in order to jump. It took 33 centons and they simply couldn't sit around to wait. No guns, no armor, no hope in hell.

The lieutenant sat in the captain's chair and began tapping the armrest. "I can't leave those people behind." She said out loud, glancing at her _Atlantia _patch on her sleeve, knowing full well that Admiral Nagala and everyone else aboard, her shipmates, had died and she could not do anything to have prevented it. She was not about to have it happen again.

Ortega finally arrived, still clutching the Ambrosia bottle. "We steal a jumper. You can see for yourself that we can't do this." He waved his free hand to encompass the Bridge.

She jumped out of her chair and grabbed the bottle from his hand. "What the frak do you think you're doing? By the Lords of Kobol, are you a fraking mindwipe?" She set the bottle down and pressed her fingers against her temple. "This is dereliction of duty, mister."

He stared at her a moment. "You going to file for court martial? Wait, Fleet Headquarters was destroyed and as far as we know, there isn't much of a Fleet left if the scattered debris in space is any indication." He folded his arms. "So Kronus' chosen is worth the risk? You know there could be thousands of other survivors here, little alone the rest of the colonies. You won't be able to save each and everyone of them. You're not even from Virgon."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

Ortega didn't answer, simply strolled off the Bridge. She didn't stop him, too angry to even deal with the man. _"How could he possibly be a Colonial warrior?"_ She thought as she brought up the specs for the ship. It had a complement of 400 but much of these were geared to passenger service, such as stewards. What she needed were just a few techs for the Bridge and snipes down in the Engine Room; everything else was immaterial. The ten lounges, six restaurants and two pools aboard were but a luxury. It did have two shuttles in its landing bay but a working FTL drive was the most important feature and would make the most difference.

----------------------------

Wildcat was mumbling obscenities as he went down one deck after another. His flashlight illuminated cabin 10612, a clone of dozens he imagined. Personal space, something he couldn't get bunking down in the _Columbia's _barracks, was very evident on this ship.

He was lost in thought, still entangled in his anger over the redhead lieutenant and almost didn't notice the half hidden body at an intersection ahead. He carefully approached it and saw that it was a man dressed in civvies with a knife protruding from his chest. Blood covered his torso and his eyes still looked toward the ceiling in death.

"What the frak..." He whispered. Toasters, at least these days, didn't go around stabbing their opponents when they had built-in machine guns to unleash enough lead to bring down a herd of pachyderms. On closer inspection, The knife looked to be a staple of practically any kitchen and not a De-Bar or other combat blade. One thing for certain, the man was killed not long ago, _after_ the invasion.

His light illuminated a corridor and behold someone was standing there. Ortega aimed his Clamshell. "Stay where you are!" He couldn't contact Deitra about this development in case his transmission was picked up by the Cylons, or at least that was his excuse. "Put your hands on your head."

The man had been attempting to shield his eyes from Ortega's flashlight's glare but complied. This fellow was not splattered in blood, not even a few specks considering the corpse's state.

Ortega only heard something behind him and as he turned, the pipe connected, sending him to unconsciousness. His attacker scooped up the Clamshell and smiled. He glared at his companion who still had his hands on his head. He put the gun to Ortega's temple as if to simply end the ordeal instead but hesitated.

The intercom crackled to life. _"Ortega, get down to the Engine Room and check on the turbodyne."_

The man rubbed his chin. "A woman..." He smirked. "For Kobol's sake, put your hands down and tie this motherfraker's hands real tight. Don't want this warrior getting any ideas now do we." He gave Ortega a kick to the ribs. "A lot of good these warriors did us."

---------------------------

Deitra figured using the intercom, with its closed circuits, would not be detected by the Cylons, unlike radio transmissions, however her choice was made when Ortega stormed off and she wasn't about to search for him. If he could tell her the condition of the turbodyne then she would have a better understanding, as far as her engineering knowledge went, of the chances for a jump.

What worried her was whether the _Columbia_ would still be at the jump coordinates and if not did she move on or been destroyed. Either way, they could not hope to survive even a lone raider attack and she hadn't time to look at the navigational charts for a possible sanctuary if it came to that. Even with this, she didn't want to leave Kronos' refugees behind to a fate that was certain to happen here on Virgon. As for the other billions of people she could not save, as Ortega had pointed out, she knew the colonies had dozens of starships, most commercial, that could have taken thousands to safety. She had to believe this, that the human race hadn't succumb to a few hundred survivors.

She turned to the intercom and was about to request for Ortega to respond but sending out one message should have been enough if the man was a disciplined warrior. Sighing, she turned back to reading the multitude of instruments that gave her a preliminary status of the ship's systems. When the door opened, Deitra glanced over, ready to give the other pilot a piece of her mind when she saw that Ortega was being held captive and that one of the captors was aiming a gun at her.

----------------------------

**Cimtar Station**

Cartel boss Aralt Sagremor was allowed to call his contacts for the parts and manpower needed for the major job of repairing the _Columbia._ All his calls were monitored by both Detective Inspector Hunter and Lieutenant Vega, who was quite the linguist. The cover story was that the battlestar was instead a Borellian superfreighter. Surely a lie but no one questioned Sagremor's motives and once the laborers were here, the station would be under lockdown with no outside contact.

The power converter continued to haunt them. The much needed part of their FTL drive, Sagremor, as expected, could not find anything similar. Chief Engineer Objo had tried but failed to build one that could take the immense energy needed to achieve a jump, without draining, for the 33 centons required. Normally they would have replacements since jumps created 'wear and tear' on the converter over time but as luck would have it, the storage room where they were kept was one of the damaged compartments of the ship that had suffered a hull breach during the earlier Cylon attack.

While all this was transpiring, Commander Vinn remained a transfixed object in Ops. He could still see his wounded ship through the windows but he knew that he could do more here. Forcing Sagremor to assist the repair effort was one of his more distasteful acts but not for the obvious reason of dealing with a criminal. The human race was on the brink of extinction and Sagremor was still only interested in himself.

Then there was the matter of the wounded crew members. The station's infirmary could not deal with such an influx and though the _Columbia's_ Life Center was a state of the art facility, it just would not do during large scale repairs. Power could be disrupted, countless problems crop up and cost lives. The decision was made that the wounded would be sent to the agro world of Sectar via Sagremor's space yacht. It would take several jumps, but the planet's hospitals would best serve their needs. Dr. Antos had gone with them. It was a gamble, as they all knew, since Sectar's population was human and could have met with a similar fate as the Colonies. In the end, it was believed that being in the outer rim, may have protected them, at least for now.

"Commander?"

Vinn turned away from the window to see his CAG. "Jolly." He did not attempt conversation as so much had happened in less than 48 hours, that idle words had little meaning.

"Major Objo needs a power converter. As I understand it, the Colonies is the only place we can get one."

"Get to the point, Captain." Vinn furrowed his brow, knowing where Jolly was going with this. He had been wrestling with the idea himself since Objo brought up the converter problem.

"We take the raptor back to the Colonies and get the converter. We'll get much needed intelligence-."

Vinn interrupted him. "And you want to look for Sparky and Wildcat." The old commander sighed. "I lost over 500 officers and crew – including warriors – in the attack. Some may say that we got off lucky, could have been thousands. I don't take their deaths lightly nor do I forget those two warriors and I truly understand your loyalty to them. I too, a long time ago, sat in the cockpit of a viper...I know, I know that you want to do something to rectify what's happened."

"They jumped near Virgon. It's possible they're still alive. I just want the chance to bring our boys back home...As a secondary objective." Jolly added, wanting to sell his idea.

"Virgon..." Vinn seem to be lost in thought for a moment. "I was going to retire after this tour, live in Panna and write my memoirs." He smirked, remembering what he told Admiral Nagala several months ago. The admiral's retort was that Vinn couldn't sit still long enough to write anything. "You may proceed but under no circumstances are you to jeopardize yourself or anyone else. We lost enough good people today, I don't want to add to it." He paused. "Send a recon raptor in, get images first so we can get an idea what we're in for. I don't want you to go jumping into the dark."

"Rock and Storm are ready to go."

Vinn stared at Jolly, stroking his white beard. "I see. Best not keep them waiting. I want no heroics. If they come under fire, they are to jump back."

"Aye Sir." Jolly grabbed the commlink to pass on the order. Since Raptor 3 was already to go, it did not take long before it took off from Launch Bay Alpha and in a flash, made the jump.


	14. Panna Rescue?

**Kronus' compound, Virgon**

Sparky opened his eyes to see Aurora standing over him. Having been unconscious since getting hit back in Spica City, he was unaware of the people that now were in his sight. Not seeing Ortega or Deitra, he was getting nervous.

"Tell Kronus that Lieutenant Giles is awake." She told someone who only nodded then left the rock burrowed room.

"Where am I and who are you?"

"I am Aurora Sykes and you are safe, for the moment." She picked up a scanner and began doing tests on him. "You should make a full recovery, provided you take an easy."

He felt his bare chest, the bandage covering his wound. "And my companions?"

"They went to Panna on a scouting mission."

"Panna?" He sat up to quickly and his mind became a fog. She helped him lie back down. "The Cosmodrome?" Giles asked after a moment. What other reason could they have had to go there if not for a means of escape.

"Yes. We intend on leaving Virgon."

"We?"

"Hello Lieutenant." Kronus had entered, followed by Charka and Damon. "I trust that you are feeling much better."

"Commander Kronus..." Giles tried again to get up but Aurora, this time, placed a gentle hand on him to keep him on the bed.

"I'm glad to see your health has improved, Lieutenant." Kronus was as imposing as Giles assumed he'd be. He remembered seeing him speak at the Academy years ago and for those green cadets, it was like getting a visit from a superstar.

"Yes...Yes Sir." Was all Giles could say as he was momentarily starstruck. It only occurred to him after glancing at Aurora about the fate of his colleagues. "Commander, I would like the use of a vehicle to get me to Panna. With so many Toasters kicking around, I'd feel a whole lot better knowing they're okay."

Charka was going to object; it was in his facial muscles and tense hands. Kronus either decided to ignore the man's opinion or simply never noticed and made his view known. "I understand. The Cylons are already in the valley." The veteran paused. "They could be upon us in less than 24 centares."

"He's in no condition to go anywhere." Aurora interjected. Her eyes darted between the former and the current warriors.

"I'll be okay." Giles winced. "If the Toasters are coming, then I'm better utilized helping Ortega and Gedrin get a transport than lying around here."

This time Aurora didn't try to prevent him getting up though the look of concern was still evident. She exchanged looks with Kronus before folding her arms knowing there would be no solid front in keeping the warrior in bed.

"I need to get to Panna." Giles slowly stood up, grabbing his flight jacket and with some difficulty pulled it on. He refused Aurora's help as he continued by strapping on his gunbelt.

"It will be harder now that the Cylons are in the valley..."

"But not impossible." Sparky had interrupted the first war veteran.

"No, not impossible. It will take longer to avoid them with the spinner if you go through the hills. However, Panna does have a Cylon presence, how many, well only the Lords of Kobol could answer that."

"I'll go with him." Piped up Damon. Charka had remained unusually quiet but Aurora was about to volunteer as well but Kronus interceded.

"I need you here, Aurora. If their plan succeeds, we'll need to evacuate quickly." There was no point stating the obvious if they did not. "Give him an anti-rad shot. The radiation levels, as you can imagine, are much higher in the cities."

"Fine." Giles nodded to Damon before Kronus shook his hand for luck. The two men did not speak as the younger warrior headed outside.

------------------------------------------

**Panna**

Deitra had her hands and feet bound. Although there was the odd sexual innuendo, their captors did not abuse her, at least for the moment. Ortega, still unconscious, was also bound and remained lying on the floor where they had deposited him.

The captors were armed with the warrior's own pistols which gave them a lot more confidence than simply brandishing blunt instruments such as the pipe used to strike Ortega.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked through gritted teeth. If she wasn't tied up...

"Perhaps you haven't noticed but the Red Eyes have taken over the fraking planet. We aim to take this ship and get as far away as humanly possible." Answered Athan, the leader. He was slim with high cheek bones, long dark hair and stubble that offered a patchwork across his lower face.

"What about everyone else? You just going to leave them?" Deitra glanced around the Bridge to see how far these clowns got to getting the vessel space worthy. Some screens were active but if they had any sense, it would all be on minimal power so as not to be detected by the Cylons.

Athan had ignored her a moment while watching the heavyset Julian, the other captor, going from console to console. "Do yourself a favor, lady and just shut the frak up!" He pointed his weapon and for a micron, it looked as if he just might discharge it. However, he regained control of his emotions and slowly lowered the pistol. "If you behave, I might let you live. After all I need somebody to do the cooking and cleaning." He added with a smirk. Julian busted out laughing.

"Frak off." She growled though this time, Athan did not only raise his stolen weapon but shoved the barrel against her forehead.

"Shut up." Athan lowered his eyes as his free hand began to unfasten her trousers. A broad smile creased his face as he knew that he could do whatever he wanted and she couldn't do a damn thing to stop him.

She glared at him, her eyes never leaving his and the reaction of fear and trepidation he expected from her was not evident. As he grabbed a hold of her trousers, even as she struggled, he was interrupted by Julian.

"We got a problem with the LP pump."

Athan glanced between the two but finally replied. "And?"

"We can't jump until it's fixed."

The would be rapist kicked a chair before barging out. He knew full well that Julian needed to stay here in order to recalibrate the systems, something he simply didn't know how to do.

Deitra let out a deep breath, promising herself that when she had the chance, Athan was going to die.

Julian would look over at her from time to time which made her increasingly uncomfortable so she pulled her knees up to her chest. She turned to Ortega but he was still unconscious not that it would have made a difference, him being as bound as her.

------------------------------------------

Giles looked through the visual enhancers and didn't like what he saw. Cylons were massing in Panna to deal with what pockets of resistance that were left after the earlier orbital bombardments. The lieutenant didn't think there would be much fight left among the human survivors, more a massacre than a battle.

He saw Deitra and Ortega's spinner or what was left of it as smoldering debris. Closer inspection would determine if his fellow warriors had escaped or not. On the tarmac was another example of Cylon brutality as thick black smoke rose up from a heavily damaged starliner. Humans were noticeably absent.

He could see the city's skyline which surprisingly was still standing. The planet had been hit by nukes, that was a fact but what the evidence before his eyes were saying was a totally different matter. It then occurred to him. "Neutron bomb..."

"The radiation levels would have to be significant, at least 80 Gy in order to incapacitate everyone." Damon responded. "Physics Major." He added with a shrug.

"Incapacitate is a political correct way of saying murder then that's what it looks like. I just don't understand why they would bother to leave the buildings standing." Giles was intrigued but had to put the thought out of his mind for the moment in order to see if his colleagues were even remotely counted among the living. Taking one last look at the Cylon position, and feeling confident enough, he hunched down and slowly made his way toward the destroyed spinner. Damon followed a quarter maxim behind.

Giles used a scanner to pick up biological traces but it came back blank. No body parts were mixed with the twisted remains of what once was a spinner. Deitra and Ortega were not inside when it was destroyed. He had to consider that the two may have been captured, executed or detained elsewhere – possibly even to the orbiting basestar. Damon had offered no words of hope so the lieutenant had to make his own.

The scanner's range and scope was simply to small to try detecting them in the hanger or anywhere else nearby.

"We should go back, tell Kronus that the starliner has been destroyed." Advised Damon. "Your fellow warriors...I'm sorry."

"Don't bury them yet." Ortega snapped. "Those hangers could have a usable starliner."

"It will be too risky-."

"The Toasters aren't massing here for a picnic. Those patrols in the valley will only increase in size. All those survivors at that compound of yours won't survive an attack...And trust me, it's going to happen. Let's go."

Damon reluctantly followed the warrior as they approached the hanger, using the sparse brush as cover whenever a Cylon paid any attention to their general area. Ortega was hoping that these machine soldiers were confident enough in their strength as not to even give credence to any human infiltration.


End file.
